


Dejah Thoris, Princess of House Mormont

by Sploot



Series: The Saga of Dejah Thoris, Princess of Westeros [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Barsoom - Edgar Rice Burroughs, Game of Thrones (TV), John Carter (2012)
Genre: Badass Women, Bear Island, Bechdel Test Pass, Beloved Characters Die, Crossover, F/F, Female Friendship, Multi, Not Beta Read, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Widespread Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-05-01 23:58:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 28
Words: 144,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14532195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sploot/pseuds/Sploot
Summary: My name is Dejah Thoris. This place was not always my home.Once, I was Princess of Helium, Regent of the Royal Academy of Sciences, and Consort Royal of John Carter, Jeddak of Jeddaks, the Warlord of Barsoom. After John Carter’s disappearance from our planet, I lifted my arms toward his home world and instead ended up here, a land known as Westeros and riven by the political and social conflict cynically known as the game of thrones.Like John Carter, my transit through the depths of space left me stronger and faster than I had been before. Initially seeking my husband, I found a woman who became my sister and later my lover. Realizing that I had been abandoned by John Carter, I in turn abandoned my search for him and became an adopted daughter of a noble family known as House Mormont.To defend my new home, I first slew the evil being known as the Night’s King and later killed a murderously insane princess and her two fire-breathing dragons. I came to love my sisters, and I lost interest in returning to John Carter.Soon he would return to me, with death in his eyes.Now Complete. Note: You may want to read Parts One and Two first.





	1. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris finally wears her purple gown.

Why had I lopped off the head of Daenerys Targaryen?

On the surface, I had full justification: the Lords of the North had agreed that she was murderously insane and should be killed if possible before she could repeat the mass murder she had committed at King’s Landing. And she had murdered, by way of her dragons, two highly respected and beloved figures in the North of Westeros, Howland Reed and Samwell Tarly.

But as I walked slowly back to the gates of Winterfell, holding Daenerys’ head by its long silver-gold hair in one hand and my bloody sword in the other, I knew that those reasons had little to do with it. I killed Daenerys because she had loved and married my husband, John Carter. And he had called her his princess.

I had been his princess. And now I was forgotten. 

* * *

My name is Dejah Thoris. This place was not always my home.

Once, I was Princess of Helium, Regent of the Royal Academy of Sciences, and Consort Royal of John Carter, Jeddak of Jeddaks, the Warlord of Barsoom. After John Carter’s disappearance from our planet, I lifted my arms toward his home world and instead ended up here, a land known as Westeros and riven by the political and social conflict cynically known as the game of thrones.

Like John Carter, my transit through the depths of space left me stronger and faster than I had been before. Initially seeking my husband, I found a woman who became my sister and later my lover. Realizing that I had been abandoned by John Carter, I in turn abandoned my search for him and became an adopted daughter of a noble family known as House Mormont.

To defend my new home, I first slew the evil being known as the Night’s King and later killed a murderously insane princess and her two fire-breathing dragons. I came to love my sisters, and I lost interest in returning to John Carter.

Soon he would return to me, with death in his eyes. 

* * *

The castle gates opened and a stream of people rushed out to meet me. My sister Tansy reached me first and flung her arms around my neck. Lords and soldiers surrounded me, reaching out to slap or grasp me on the shoulders. A few pounded me hard on the back; men and women rarely touch one another in public in this culture, but overwhelming joy had overcome that prohibition. With a great deal of effort, four soldiers lifted me onto their shoulders and carried me into Winterfell. For the moment, I was their hero.

All but one. Lady Barbrey Dustin stood apart from the crowd and scowled.

I did not scan her thoughts, so overwhelmed was I by my own emotions and those of my friends. Only Tansy, Maege Mormont and Howland Reed had been present when I slew the Night’s King and restored this world to its natural balance, but over a hundred people had seen me kill two dragons, one by craft and one by sword.

And they had seen me summarily execute Daenerys Targaryen along with her herald, whose name I did not know, and her advisor Tyrion Lannister. All killed by my hand, in cold blood.

When the soldiers finally put me down Tansy swept me into her arms and kissed me, opening her lips and using her tongue as she had on the castle walls before my encounter with the dragons. Hallis Mollen, the Winterfell guard captain, gently patted my shoulder even as my sister kissed me and then took the head and my sword from my hands. His thoughts showed that he planned to treat the head respectfully and put it out of sight, and that he wished to show respect for me by cleaning my sword.

“Mollen,” I called over Tansy’s shoulder when she finally released the kiss. “Thank you.”

He nodded. He also carried the head by its hair; the purple eyes of Daenerys were still open, and they seemed to glare at her killer with unspoken accusations. Her mouth remained frozen in a shocked, open circle.

Before I could dwell on those thoughts, Davos Seaworth swept us both into his embrace. “Girls, we must celebrate. I’ll have Sam send . . .”

His words faltered.

“I’ll send ravens myself to tell our people it’s safe to return.”

Samwell Tarly’s wife Gilly, a former wildling as they called the people who had lived north of the Wall, had been sent away from Winterfell for her own safety. She awaited word at a nearby hunting lodge, along with my former apprentice, Beth Cassel, and my little sister, Jory Mormont. I would have to tell Gilly what had happened to her husband. I dreaded this task.

Many other soldiers and Winterfell servants reached out to touch me, and thank me. My adoptive sister Lyra Mormont pushed through them, took my face in her hands and then kissed me deeply just as Tansy had done. She had much less skill than Tansy, but just as great a passion. I had fantasized such a moment more than once, but could not summon enough emotion to enjoy it.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“I am not badly injured,” I answered.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Stay with me and I will be better.”

I put my arms around the shoulders of my sisters, and they linked theirs around my waist. I accepted the thanks of several dozen more people, more hugs and more kisses, though none as fiery as those of Tansy and Lyra.

I had left five corpses outside Winterfell’s gates along with two dead dragons. When Galbart Glover had finished hugging me and had kissed me soundly on the forehead, I slipped free of my sisters and pulled him aside.

“We should dispose of the remains as soon as possible,” I told him. “Daenerys had a husband, a leader of the Dothraki, who rode her third dragon.”

“Surely he won’t arrive today.”

“No,” I said. “You are correct. I am still somewhat shaken.”

“You should be. You killed a bloody dragon. _Two_ of the buggers. Leave such things to me. Try to enjoy the celebration. You’ve earned it. They’ve earned it. One by one, their heroes fell. This time their hero won the day.”

“You are correct again. I left my friends out there and am not myself. Will you send someone to collect them?”

“Of course. I’ll see to it myself.”

Tansy took me by the arm and grabbed Lyra’s hand.

“No more seriousness. Your people won’t enjoy themselves unless you give them permission. And that means you have to enjoy yourself. Come on, let’s clean you up.”

My people. I supposed that they were. And I knew she was right. My long training as a princess had taught me the importance of allowing the people to celebrate a victory; life brings a full share of defeat and, in this land, far more than its share. Enjoy the rare opportunities to savor victory. I had some deep cuts on the inside of my legs where the second dragon’s scales had sliced into my flesh as I clung to its neck, but was otherwise unhurt. No one had mentioned aloud that the blood running down my legs was blue.

In our rooms, I washed myself clean with a basin of cold water – I could not bear to go fetch a tub and hot water, and would not ask the soldiers to do so. Lyra cleaned my cuts with alcohol while Tansy stitched the two worst of them closed, and then they wrapped them all in several long clean cloths. It stung, but I was glad we had an anti-septic in this world filled with germs and infection.

Ser Davos had long ago given us chambers that we had occupied during our each of our stays in Winterfell; one of the servants had told me they once belonged to a woman named Lyanna Stark, aunt to Arya and Sansa. They included an alcove for hanging clothing, and the gowns Sansa Stark had gifted to us a year earlier remained there. We had never had a chance to wear them, but now we took them out.

“Have you a gown to wear?” Tansy asked Lyra. “Some of these that Sansa brought for Dejah are still here.”

“No, I don’t,” my adoptive sister said. “Nothing but Mormont green and black.”

“Let’s find you one.”

Tansy and Lyra sorted through the gowns while I sprawled on my back on the large bed, looking up at the canopy over it. Someone had carefully stitched a representation of this planet’s night sky there. I had never noticed this before, and suddenly it became fascinating.

And then a beautiful brown-haired woman in a dark green gown was touching my face and saying my name. It took a few moments to recognize her and my surroundings.

“You fell asleep,” my adoptive sister said. “Tansy wishes to get your gown ready.”

“I think I can finish what Myranda started,” Tansy said, threading a needle. “I’m not nearly as good at this as she and don’t have much practice, but she’d already finished the hard parts.”

A soldier came bearing my now-spotless sword as well as Howland Reed’s, but he was of no help in stitching my gown. We didn’t need him. I could not tell the difference between Tansy’s stitches and Myranda’s; I looked beautiful in my purple gown, with its wide skirt and a plunging neckline held together by a lattice pattern of black laces. The inner sides of my breasts were visible, as well as my abdomen to a level just above where people of these planet had an odd indention called a “navel.” This apparently was where they had connected with their mother during gestation; having been hatched from an egg, I had no such reminder and Myranda had thought it wise not to reveal this lack.

My gown surely would have scandalized any women present at the feast, but other than Lady Barbrey, who was scandalized by my very existence, there would be no other women there to see beyond my sister Tansy, Maege Mormont and my adoptive sister Lyra. I hoped Lady Barbrey filled her hateful eyes to and beyond bursting.

Tansy had undone Lyra’s braids and brushed her hair while I slept; she now brushed mine and made me stay perfectly still while she outlined my eyes with dark circles of a powder she called “kohl.” It highlighted my dark red eyes and in the mirror they looked beautiful and exotic.

Lyra had helped Tansy into her gown and now rooted through the pile of shoes in the alcove where our gowns had hung, looking for something suitable that would fit us. I took a turn brushing my chosen sister’s hair as she sat before a mirror. It really was lovely hair; some long-extinct people of Barsoom had hair of this reddish-brown color but it does not exist among the current inhabitants. The women of this land usually wear their hair in braids, often done in intricate patterns, but all of the servants who might have done this for us had been sent away before the dragons came. I pulled Tansy’s hair back in the style of Helium, held across the top of her head with a gold-colored band I found near the mirror, and flowing loose across her shoulders behind. I could find no other such bands so Lyra and I simply wore ours loose, the way Tansy had brushed it.

My sister leaned back and looked up at me.

“I thought I would never see you again.”

“I was not sure myself. I sent Howland Reed to find you and take you into the caves of the dead beneath Winterfell. That was a terrible mistake on my part. I did not expect the dragon to chase after him.”

“So he died coming to save me.”

“That is not your fault. He died on my command.”

“You thought of me first.”

“Yes. Always.”

“You fought a dragon. To protect me.”

“Yes. For my sister.”

“No one has ever done anything like that for me, even close to that.”

“You did not have a sister then.”

I tipped her head gently forward with one finger and fluffed her hair.

“This is so shiny after a brushing.”

“For an old girl, I do clean up pretty. Let’s go show off.”

Lyra handed me a very fine pair of women’s shoes I had looted from a castle known as Last Hearth that had been inhabited by a family of very large people. They fit my unusually large feet quite well.

The three of us almost danced through the drab stone corridors; for a moment, the joy of dressing in lovely evening wear and the anticipation of dining and dancing shoved away the horrors of the day. Davos Seaworth and Maege Mormont awaited us at the doors leading into Winterfell’s Great Hall.

“Girls, you look . . . incredible.”

“We have fine daughters, Davos, do we not?” Maege teased him. Lyra fell in beside her mother while Tansy and I each took one of the Onion Knight’s offered arms to enter the hall. He paused.

“Princess, you’re the hero tonight. Every lord will want a dance with you.”

“You will remind me of those I miss?”

“Of course. Do your people dance as we do?”

I had not thought of this.

“We dance. But perhaps my sisters should take the first dance so that I can watch?”

“That seems wise.”

He imagined how dancing might take place on my world, with several red-skinned women who otherwise looked like Tansy gyrating, their hips and breasts moving to a rapid drumbeat as they flung their clothing away. He was not far wrong, but we begin our dances already unclothed.

We entered the hall. The assembled crowd – about 200 people, almost all of them soldiers – rose and cheered.

I took my place at the center of what was called the high table, a long, wide table on a raised platform that took up the front of the hall. This was where we had found Myranda Royce after the murder and abduction of Sansa Stark. I tried to forget that memory for at least an evening.

Ser Davos was seated on my right, with Tansy on his right, and Lord Glover on my left, with Maege to his left and Lyra on the right next to Tansy; Ser Davos had balked at placing two Mormonts at the head table but Tansy had been insistent. I felt very comfortable in this company. The soldiers quieted and looked expectantly at me.

“They’re waiting for a speech,” Davos whispered.

I stood. Food had not yet been spread, so I lifted the goblet of wine that waited at my place and stepped onto the table in the manner of Helium. A few people chuckled; this apparently was not a custom in these lands. A long table extended from ours down the center of the hall. It was somewhat lower than our table and I stepped carefully onto it; it bore my weight.

“Soldiers!” I began. “Today we lost a pair of good friends.”

I slowly walked down the center of the table. Just the tiniest sway of my hips made my skirts swish back and forth as I moved. I loved my purple gown.

“Howland Reed saved my life after a Frey stabbed me in the back. He stood by me while I fought the Night’s King. And he faced the Dragon Queen without fear, buying the time for our explosive trap to take effect.

“He was my friend.”

I had their full attention; not a sound could be heard from the soldiers.

“Samwell Tarly was a man of words, not deeds. Yet he faced the dragons despite a desperate desire to be elsewhere.

“All of us are soldiers. We have fought, and we have survived. We know terror. We know that true courage is not the absence of fear, but the act of going forward even when terror’s icy grip stills your heart.”

Many heads now nodded.

“Samwell Tarley died a hero today. We would not have known how to defeat the dragons without him.

“He was my friend.”

I had reached the end of the table. I lifted my goblet high.

“Samwell Tarly. Howland Reed. Never forget them.”

I turned my goblet to its side and let the wine pour out onto the cut green plants covering the floor.

The soldiers rose to their feet with a roar, and poured out their own wine and ale. I allowed them to continue for a few moments, and then raised my arms for silence. They resumed their seats. Now I moved more swiftly back to my place, adding a little more swish to my steps this time.

“We have food. We have wine. Tonight we remember those lost, and celebrate a victory gained. Let us have music!”

The small group of musicians – two drummers and a man who played a tube called a flute, all of them Winterfell soldiers – took up a tune. Lord Glover offered a hand and I took it to climb back to my place.

“You truly are royalty,” he said, slowly shaking his head. “They would follow you anywhere. So would I.”

Galbart Glover was not married; in his thoughts he’d gladly have wed me but he knew I already had a husband. He preferred the company of men, but in this moment found me very desirable. Davos Seaworth patted my hand; his thoughts dwelt on his long-held desire that I take direct rule of the North.

“He’s right,” said the Onion Knight. “Any lord in Westeros would have proclaimed his own heroism. You shared it with them and made new heroes. They will love you for it.”

Food appeared. Winterfell had only a handful of cooks and no servants, so soldiers took turns bringing the dishes from the kitchens – simple roasted meats and potatoes for the most part. And a great deal of wine.

 _Restrain yourself,_ Tansy thought intensely. _Use your knife and your fork, not your hands. Don’t speak with food in your mouth._

I watched her out of the corner of my eye, using the utensils to delicately cut small pieces of meat and bring them to my mouth just as she did. I was so hungry, and it tortured me to leave such good food on the plate instead of picking it up and biting into it like a civilized person. I did not need to be reminded not to speak while eating; that is considered an unpardonable barbarity on my home planet.

A soldier poured more wine for me. He was a little clumsy, and I detected that he was nervous in my presence.

“You will have your chance to feast as well?” I asked.

“Yes, Princess. We’re trading off this duty. But it’s a pleasure to serve you. We arm-wrestled for the honor.”

“And you won?”

“That I did.”

I kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank you,” I said. “The honor is mine.”

I remembered to sip my wine delicately, like a princess of this world, and greeted each of the Lords of the North as they came to congratulate me on the victory over the dragons. All but one of them. I in turn thanked them for their support, and emphasized the importance of working together to defend our land. They liked it when I called the North “our land.”

After the food was done, the soldiers moved the tables and the cut plants (now sodden with spilled drink and bits of food) to the sides of the hall to make room for dancing. Tansy and Lyra Mormont danced with two of the young lords and I watched them carefully. It was a very sedate and chaste dance, with little contact between the dancers other than holding hands at certain points. Davos Seaworth had been right to warn me to watch first.

I rose to join them for the second dance. This time I walked around the high table rather than over it, and stopped before Mollen standing in the doorway watching the proceedings.

“Will you dance with me?”

“Princess, I . . .  there are many lords here.”

“And many soldiers. I would dance with the foremost of them first.”

Mollen proved a very awkward dance partner, which helped mask my own discomfort, but I followed silent directions from Tansy as she danced with one of the young lords and managed not to embarrass myself or my partner. My sisters and I danced with all of the lords, usually switching partners in the middle of a song, and many of their younger relatives as well. I made sure to also include common soldiers as dance partners.

Taking a brief break, I leaned against one of the stone arches behind the high table and peeked over its edge to watch my sister dance. A young lord approached me, one of the Tallhart family from south-west of Winterfell. I did not know his name. He was pleasant looking, slightly shorter than I and very nervous as he spoke.

“Princess, I . . . that was . . . I mean . . .”

He desperately wanted to kiss me. I took him by the shoulders, turned to press him against the arch and kissed him, very hard. I parted his lips and ran my tongue along his. He whimpered. I released him and put my hand gently alongside his face.

“Few men are allowed to kiss a princess. Remember this.”

“I . . . I will.”

He stumbled away. I resumed my spot. No one appeared to have noticed. Except Lady Barbrey Dustin, whose disgust at my wantonness struck my mind like a wave on this planet’s ocean. I turned to see her glaring at me, and smiled back at her. 

* * *

On the next morning, I rose and met with Galbart Glover and Davos Seaworth over First Meal, leaving my sisters to sleep. It had been a very enjoyable evening, and I was grateful to have finally had a chance to wear my purple gown. Seven different drunken men asked to marry me; three of them asked to marry both Tansy and I together and one asked for Lyra’s hand as well. But I was already married, and apparently unlike my husband, I still kept that vow as it applied on his world.

I now wore one of the simple brown dresses we had acquired; it still felt odd to have cloth rub against my skin but I refused to wear the binding “smallclothes” underneath my dress. I had cut the sleeves off and though the edges were somewhat ragged at least I retained my freedom of movement.

A table had been piled with bacon and the small round loaves of bread known as biscuits. And they had the wonderful Summer Isles drink called coffee.

“You know what I’m going to ask you again,” Ser Davos began as I split a biscuit to stuff it with butter and bacon.

“I do. And you know that I will not play the game of thrones.”

“Princess,” Galbart Glover tried his luck. “You said yourself that Daenerys’ husband will seek revenge, and commands hordes of Dothraki screamers. That puts the North in grave danger.

“We are a divided land. But you saw it last night. These men will follow you.”

“All two hundred of them.”

“They will tell others,” Galbart Glover said. “Word will spread, and your legend will grow.”

“They followed the Starks for centuries,” I said. “Longer, in their legends. Yet many of them fought against Sansa Stark; I have not forgotten the heaps of Northmen I slew in her name.”

“Old Lord Rickard Stark, Ned’s father, made a grave error,” Galbart Glover allowed, “marrying his children outside the North, and Ned compounded it. Yet we no longer live in those times.”

“Princess, you are not of any house,” Davos Seaworth picked up the argument. “There will be jealousy between the houses if anyone else is chosen to lead the North. But not if you are the leader. You don’t even have to be Queen.”

I had heard my grandfather make a similar argument regarding John Carter, when members of the Advisory Council spoke against my marriage to the outlander.

“I am a daughter of House Mormont. I will not relinquish that honor. And so there will be jealousy among the houses.”

“You’ve commanded Northern troops in battle before,” Lord Glover said. “Including mine.”

“I have always said that I will help in times of danger.”

“The death of Daenerys puts the North in danger.”

Lord Glover was right. By killing Daenerys, I had endangered them all. I drank more coffee and split another biscuit.

“You are correct. I killed Daenerys and thereby put the North in danger. I will not shirk my duty.”

I paused for still more coffee. I liked this drink very much. We had nothing like it on Barsoom.

“Daenerys married the leader of the Dothraki. When he lands in Westeros, if he has not already, I will go south and face him. If I cannot turn him away from the North, I will return and lead your armies. But not as Queen. Is that acceptable?”

I had glossed over a few facts, like the identity of the Dothraki leader. And then, as a well-trained princess, I changed the subject.

“What shall be done with the dead dragons?”

“Burning them in place is probably the best course,” Lord Glover said. “Without Maester Samwell, we have no way of knowing if their flesh is wholesome to eat.”

“My sister studied the texts alongside Samwell Tarly,” I said. “But I agree that we should burn the meat rather than eat it. Daenerys, her herald and Tyrion Lannister as well, including her head.”

“I’ll issue the orders,” Ser Davos said.

“I would like to keep the dragon skulls,” Lord Glover interjected. “We should mount them in the Great Hall of Winterfell.”

Daenerys Targaryen had been certain that John Carter would seek retribution for her death, and I well knew that his vengeance could be terrible. I wanted my friends – my people, now – to be safe.

“It would not be wise to taunt the leader of the Dothraki,” I said. “Can you not secure the skulls somewhere, perhaps in the caves of the dead, to bring them forth when this danger has passed?”

They did not understand my fear and felt it foolish, but gave in out of love and respect. 

* * *

Tansy joined me just as Davos and Lord Glover departed, and after she ate we returned to our chambers. In the corridor outside them we encountered the unpleasant Lady Barbrey and her grey-cowled maester; they were rushing along heedlessly and she ran into me, falling to the floor. Her companion quickly knelt by her side.

“A shame,” she spat at me, “that that dragon missed its chance to clean up this castle.”

“You wished to see me die.”

Lady Barbrey stood with her companion’s help. She was shorter than I, a somewhat fleshy woman of early middle age with large breasts and curly brown hair streaked with gray. When she climbed to her feet, her skirts shifted briefly to reveal rather thick legs.

“Of course I did. You are an abomination, you and this whore ‘sister’ of yours. By the gods I hate hearing you two call each other sister. Have you tainted that sweet Cassel girl yet? You just lust for those sweet, firm young breasts, don’t you?”

“Dejah saved every living soul in Westeros from the Others,” Tansy said. “She saved everyone in Winterfell – including you – from Daenerys and her dragons. Why do you hate us so?”

“You are filth,” Lady Barbrey said. “She doesn’t belong here and you should not even speak to me, bastard whore.”

Tansy slapped her across the face.

“Lady Barbrey is a member of the Council of the North,” her companion said. “You cannot harm her.”

“Watch me.” Tansy slapped Barbrey Dustin again.

“I’ll see you hang for that, whore,” Lady Barbrey said. “You both deserve death.”

“That is not likely,” I said. “Do you wish me to kill more of your relations in trial by combat?”

“Who in the seven hells are you?” Tansy demanded of the stranger.

“I am Maester Lucas, sworn to Lady Barbrey’s service,” he replied haughtily. “There are rules of conduct to be followed, and you two flout nearly all of them. Lady Barbrey merely wishes to restore order.”

“By murdering us?” Tansy asked in an incredulous tone.

“It is a capital crime for one woman to lay with another.”

“No it isn’t,” Tansy shot back. “You just made that up.”

“It’s only right that you two be put to death,” he answered. “And the Cassel girl if you have corrupted her as well. She has the look of one corrupted.”

“What is the penalty,” I asked, “when a maester breaks his vow of celibacy?”

“I have done no such thing.”

“You had sex with Barbrey Dustin just before you rushed down this corridor. You pushed her against the desk of the castle solar and inserted your sex organ, but she only pretended to receive orgasm. You have been lovers for years, even defiling the scriptorium where copies are made. And you are eager for it again. The thought of killing us arouses you both.”

“You have no standing to make such accusations,” Lady Barbrey said. “No one will believe you, about any of this. My conscience is clear. You don’t belong here. Go back to whatever hell spat you forth.”

I considered killing her on the spot, but I had promised not to do such things without asking Lyra or Tansy first.

“You will yet suffer by my hand, Dejah Thoris,” Barbrey Dustin continued, smugly. “You and all of your whore-sisters.

“And the shame you’ve brought on Ser Rodrik’s memory. Beth Cassel should be married with babies by now, not running around with a pretend princess showing off her firm high tits and waving a sword.”

“You seem very interested in the firmness of my sister’s breasts,” I said, placing my hand on Lady Barbrey’s upper chest and pressing her back against the wall. “Should you attempt to speak to me or my sisters again, or spread lies about us to anyone else, I will kill you as I did your brothers.”

Her fall had disordered her clothing, leaving visible a thin silver chain that had been buried deep beneath the complicated layers. I hooked one finger under it and pulled it free to reveal a silver wolf’s head, the same emblem as that of House Stark, dangling from it.

“You loved a Stark,” I said, reading it in her thoughts. “He is long dead, but you love him still, yet hate him for leaving you. You are a deeply pitiable woman, Barbrey.”

We strode away, and again I wished for an excuse to plunge my sword into Lady Barbrey’s ample chest as I had since the first time I met her. She had been filled with hate for many years before we ever met and had wished for my death and that of my sister solely out of envy. I never fully understood this, though I suspected that she felt cheated of the chance to murder the last of the Stark family and blamed me for allowing death to claim Arya and Sansa before she could do so herself.

Unpleasant as it would have been to enter her twisted mind, I should have questioned her more closely. She seemed very satisfied that she had done me some great harm and I knew not what that might be. Had she actually done so, or only fantasized of it? I would come to regret my oversight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next episode: Dejah Thoris makes a confession.
> 
> \---
> 
> About Dejah Thoris  
> Dejah Thoris is the title character in Edgar Rice Burroughs’ A Princess of Mars, a pulp novel that’s spawned over a century’s worth of imitators. She is the original fantasy princess, at times a damsel to be rescued, at others a fierce warrior, and at still others an innovative scientist – Burroughs is not consistent in his depiction, and she eventually fades into the background of the novels.
> 
> She’s a Red Martian, third in line to the throne of Helium, the most powerful empire of Mars, a planet known to its peoples as Barsoom. Red Martians are telepathic, but again Burroughs is not consistent so I’ve chosen to resolve this by making those of select royal birth (like Dejah) more powerful than commoners. Her breeding has also resulted in greater size, strength, intelligence and beauty. And she has been taught many skills in her long life (Red Martians can live 1,800 years or more), including swordplay. Burroughs never reveals Dejah’s age but she is no hatchling. She’s tall (about six feet), copper-skinned with jet-black hair.
> 
> John Carter, Dejah’s eventual husband and the hero of the early Barsoom novels, is a Confederate cavalry officer mystically transported to Mars when he raises his hands to the planet. He finds himself much stronger than the locals, which he attributes to Earth’s greater gravity, but there are many hints that he has instead received a perfected body (this is made clear in a later volume, when another Earthman, this time with legs shattered in the trenches of the Great War, arrives healthy and whole). Dejah’s similar interplanetary journey has done the same for her, though the effects are not as profound – she is much smarter than Carter and can do more with less. Physical perfection, however, has not cured her deep-seated anxiety or lack of self-esteem.
> 
> Characters, Canon and Continuity  
> The story picked up at the end of Martin’s last book, and its background incorporated a few elements from the TV show; where these conflicted I picked the one I liked better. Dejah Thoris is not a reliable narrator in all respects; though she tries to tell the story accurately sometimes she misunderstands this new world around her (or refuses to acknowledge the possibility of magic).
> 
> As for the Martin characters, Jeyne Poole, Beth Cassel and the now-deceased Sansa Stark have been aged slightly and are all about 20 years old. Gendry has likewise received a few more years. I’ve tried to avoid original characters, though many of the lead characters in this story receive few if any lines in the original works. And since George isn’t around, plot armor just doesn’t offer the same protection, but the six of you who've read this far already know that.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris kisses a girl and considers the consequences of beheading a beloved princess.

Chapter Two

Tansy’s raven returned that afternoon, seeking news. Tansy wrote out a note for him to take to Beth Cassel, telling her to bring her charges to meet us at Deepwood Motte, the castle of Galbart Glover. I watched her send off the raven, unsure what to tell her but knowing that I had to speak.

“Tansy,” I said.

“What is it?”

“I did something. Before the dragons came.”

“Who did you kill this time?”

“No one. I kissed Beth Cassel. Deeply. Twice.”

“Oh,” she said, sitting on the bed next to me. “Do you love her? No, forget I asked that. Of course you love her. So do I.”

She ran her finger along my leg, pushing the hem of my brown dress up over my knee. I enjoyed her touch.

“Do you want to lay with her?”

“Receive orgasm through her?”

“Yes.”

“I would not mind,” I said, “but I am completely satisfied receiving it through you.”

“You can read her thoughts more easily than mine.”

“This is true.”

“So it might be more intense with her.”

“I am not sure that I could stand it, were it more intense than receiving orgasm through you. But she lacks your experience; I do not know that she could guide me to her pleasure centers as do you.”

She kept playing with my dress, thinking.

“I want to be jealous,” she said. “Even angry. I told you I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. And that’s true. But I do love Beth; she’s our sister and I couldn’t bear losing her.”

“Nor could I. I did not mean to upset you. I believed that I would die soon, and I was filled with love for her and the belief that I would never see her again.”

“That’s exactly how I felt about you,” she said, nodding, “just one day ago.”

“I should not have done so. Not only because of you, but because she is damaged. I love Beth and do not wish to harm her further.”

“I know you do. What will you do when we see her again?”

“Will it upset you if I kiss her?”

“Maybe a little.”

“I love you no less.”

“It’s the way of your people. But not the way of mine.”

“I cannot force my ways on you.”

“Well, no, but they sure seem like they’re more fun than ours. Can I kiss her too?”

Tansy meant to be playful, to lighten my mood, yet I felt it take a darker turn.

“That is between the two of you. It would not disturb me. It would please me, that each of you had someone.”

“I have you, and our sisters. Are you planning on leaving?”

“No. But we are not always the ones to choose.”

Lyra and Maege entered our chambers before I could say more.

“I hope we didn’t interrupt,” Maege said. “You seem troubled.”

Maege pulled a chair close to the bed to face us. I knew that I displayed far fewer facial expressions than most people here, a side-effect of my people’s reliance on telepathy, but Maege had always been able to read the minimal cues on my face. Lyra sat next to me on the bed, on the opposite side from Tansy, and took my hand in both of hers.

“We were discussing one thing,” Tansy said. “A happy thing, I thought. And then she became upset. I didn’t think I said anything troubling.”

“You did not,” I said. “I have a great deal on my mind.”

“And you have us to share the burden,” Maege said. “What happened out there, with Daenerys?”

“You saw. She told her dragons to murder Samwell and Howland. I failed to stop the dragons. Then I took her head.”

“None of my daughters have ever been able to lie to me. That includes you two. What did you read in her mind before you killed her?”

My throat tightened, rendering me incapable of speech, and I began to cry quietly. I looked down at the floor and tried to think of how to answer. I wanted to tell Maege, I wanted her comfort. But if I said it out loud it would become real.

“Has she told you?” Maege asked Tansy.

“I thought she had,” Tansy said, hesitating to say more.

“Spill it,” Maege said. “We can’t help her if we don’t know. There’s nothing you could say that I wouldn’t accept.”

“She kissed Beth, and feared I would be jealous.”

“Were you?”

“A little. I can get over it. Then she started to talk about not being with either of us, as though she were leaving or dying. Then you came in.”

Lyra and Tansy moved closer to me on either side, wrapping me in their warmth.

“Dejah,” Maege said. “You’re a daughter of House Mormont. Nothing you tell me can change that. We face our fears head on, like the she-bears that we are. And we face them together. Tell us what happened.”

Lyra handed me a cleaning cloth. I used it to blow my nose, very loudly.

“Daenerys Targaryen was married.”

“You mentioned that.”

“To John Carter.”

“Oh,” three voices responded together.

I slowly breathed in and out, taking command of my emotions. Eventually I felt that I could speak.

“I saw them together in her mind. He leads the Dothraki. He rides a dragon. She loved him, and he returned her love. She rode him and she received orgasm.”

“Are you sure?” Maege asked. “Was it memory, or fantasy?”

“Memory. They have a different . . .  taste. She believed it to be real.”

I began to cry again.

“He has forgotten me, and loves another. I killed his love. I know his mind. He will avenge her. I have put all of you in great danger.”

Maege stood, pulled me to my feet and wrapped me in her arms. I am not a small woman, but I felt myself a hatchling within her embrace.

“Cry now, sweetling. Let it out. And then the time for crying is done.”

And so I did.

“This is why we Mormont women mate with bears,” Maege said over my shoulder.

“You don’t mate with bears,” Tansy said. “We met the bear, remember?”

“No, we don’t mate with bears. But it sounds better than, ‘we roll some stable lad in the hay when we feel like it.’”

“I’m not so sure that it does,” Tansy said.

I did feel better. Somehow, I had found a family on this planet, even though we of Barsoom do not forge family bonds as strong as these people or John Carter’s. Whatever innate desire causes these connections should have been much weaker in me, yet I had surrounded myself with people who loved me. So far, I had done little to justify their love beyond killing a great many people, though in my defense most of those I had slain were bad.

“What about Beth?” I asked.

“We all love her,” Maege said. “I trust you to do what’s in her interest.”

“It does not bother you?”

“Between two daughters I birthed, it would,” she said. “I lay with Tormund. And yes, I’ve lain with women.” I felt Lyra give a start, but Maege paid no attention. “I’m in no position to judge you.”

“They kill women who love women.”

“I chose you to be my daughter,” Maege said. “I don’t regret it. I love all of my daughters, and I want each of you to be happy.”

Princess Heru, my own mother, loved me. But the mother-daughter relationship is not the same on Barsoom as it is here; Heru would never have thought to seek me out to give comfort unless I asked her to do so. Partly, I am sure, that has to do with our reliance on telepathy in communication: Heru would have known of my distress and my needs, while Maege had to guess. She had once again guessed correctly. 

* * *

I slept uneasily that night; with Tansy and Lyra each nestled close alongside me I felt the warm comfort we of Barsoom crave. Sleeping together – we do not use the term as a euphemism for sex – reminds us of our times as a hatchling in the crèche with many other young ones, and gives us reassurance in periods of stress.

Overnight, the Winterfell garrison built funeral pyres for Howland Reed and Samwell Tarly in the courtyard. Daenerys, Tyrion and the un-named herald had been flung into one of the large fires burning outside the gates without ceremony; soldiers with large axes steadily hacked the dragons into pieces and burned their flesh as well.

We awoke and cleaned ourselves, dressed in our House Mormont colors and went down to the courtyard. Tormund Giantsbane had also arrived overnight, and he clasped me tightly in a wordless embrace. When everyone had assembled, murmuring quietly but mostly saying nothing at all, Tormund strode forward to stand at the head of Samwell’s pyre. Tansy and Lyra stood close to either side of me and each took hold of my hand.

Tormund spoke over the corpse of my friend Samwell Tarly, and then Maege did the same for the corpse of my friend Howland Reed. I heard little of what they said; mostly I stared at the ground or at the burning piles of wood and flesh. I had brought about the deaths of my friends by failing to act promptly in ending the clear threat posed by the insane Daenerys Targaryen. Had I doomed even more of my friends – my sisters – by impulsively slaying the silver princess afterwards?

Yet unlike the aftermath of Sansa Stark’s final death, I detected no thoughts blaming me for the fiery end of Howland and Samwell. Tormund believed that his adopted son had died what he called “a good death,” sacrificing himself heroically to save others. Many who had been watching from the walls believed, possibly correctly, that Howland Reed had purposely led the dragon on a chase across the open ground so that I could attack it from behind. By so doing, he had saved the people of Winterfell, for once its brother had been killed Daenerys would surely have directed the remaining dragon to burn the castle and all within it.

There are no gods, and there is no afterlife. The strong and good spirits of Howland Reed and Samwell Tarly were gone forever, and I had no one but myself to blame. I had killed so many people on impulse, and the one time I needed to act, I had hesitated. I gripped the hands of my sisters more tightly. I would not fail again. 

* * *

We had no more celebrations, though Lyra and I dined quietly with Tormund, his son Toregg and son-by-law Ryk; they had thankfully left Toregg’s wife Val behind in Queenscrown. “Dining quietly” in this case meant securing our own table in the Great Hall along with a huge platter of roasted sheep, known as mutton, and copious amounts of ale.

Our friends told us of their progress in repairing the little castle and the surrounding buildings, gathering wandering livestock and securing winter food supplies from abandoned castles, farms and holdfasts. Toregg proudly announced that Val carried his child.

“That,” he told me, smiling broadly, “should make things easier for you.”

“How is that?”

“A babe will occupy Val’s mind,” he said. “Take the little flower back to your island. Let her raise Mance’s child there as her own.”

I had avoided thinking of Gilly’s fate. Toregg was correct; I had a responsibility to my Free Folk friend.

“Let my crow brother’s son become a bear,” he continued. “It’s worked out well for you.”

I nodded.

“Thank you,” I said. “I do not wish conflict.”

“None of us do,” Tormund said, not employing his usual bluff persona. “This is a time for building and breeding, not fighting.”

He told me that a small number of Free Folk survivors had filtered into Queenscrown, perhaps a hundred in all who had hidden from the walking dead and made their way south. Teams that Tormund had sent out to gather food sometimes came back with people as well. The Wall had ceased to melt as the weather again grew colder, but he hoped to find more such wanderers.

“We’ll be the first in line should evil return,” he said. “That’s why the kneelers wanted us there, no doubt.”

“How long do you believe this winter will last?” I asked.

“Don’t feel right,” Tormund said, regaining some of his bluster. “Har! Maybe not long at all.”

His son and son-by-law nodded.

“Why not?” Lyra asked.

“You’re half She-Bear, half Free Folk, daughter. You have to feel it too.”

“Feel what?”

“Well,” Tormund drew out the word. “More like not feeling it. The urge for the long sleep. Animals, they sleep for the Winter. Everyone knows. People, they feel it too, even though the long sleep kills us. I’m not feeling it.”

“Hunting’s still good,” Toregg said. “In a normal Winter, the bigger prey’d be harder to come by.”

“When the weather clears,” Tormund said, “these two be heading north of the Wall, to see that the Others are truly gone, and if any Free Folk yet live. Would like to see you two go with them.”

“Us?” Lyra asked.

“You’re my daughter!” Tormund said, as though this explained all. “And your sister here, she’s the bane of all evil creatures.”

“And most good ones as well,” I added.

“Har! Right true enough.”

Tormund did not intend insult, so I said nothing about his ready agreement.

“We have another task to complete first,” I said. Lyra looked at me, I nodded. We could trust these men with our plan.

“Task?” Tormund asked.

“House Frey killed my sister Dacey,” Lyra said. “We plan to kill them. All of them.”

“My daughter as well, was she not?”

“Yes.”

“I would go with you,” Toregg said, “and avenge the sister I never knew.”

I started slightly, hearing him echo the same words I used to describe Dacey Mormont.

“I would go as well,” Ryk added. “She was not my blood, but we’ll not see many chances now to slaughter kneelers in their castle. And to fight alongside the Daughter of the Red Star . . . that’s how legends are made.”

I pondered their offer, knowing that many of the Bear Islanders hated the Free Folk.

“We’ve both scaled the Wall,” Toregg said. “More than once. Free-hand, no ropes. A castle wall’s nothing next to that.”

Those skills could be highly useful; I only had confidence in my own ability to go over the castle walls without detection.

“You will obey my orders,” I said. “Without question.”

“Or you’ll kill us,” Toregg said. “Aye, we’re wild, but we understand that part.”

“Speak of this to no one,” I said. “We will send you a message by raven when we are ready.”

“Har!” Tormund bellowed like his old self. “None of us read your Southron scratchings.”

“We’ll send you a picture of a bear,” Lyra said. “Come here to Winterfell when you receive it, and we’ll have sent Ser Davos word on where you should meet us.” 

* * *

Lord Glover rode with us back to his castle, and we had an easy ride through the forest known as the Wolfswood. Already leaves had begun to drop from the trees in anticipation of Winter’s return; Jory later explained that some trees, known as “evergreens,” never lost their leaves. That seemed odd, but she clarified that they did drop them, just not all at once like other types.

When we reached Deepwood Motte, a raven had already brought news of the defeat of Daenerys and her dragons. It apparently had not told of our own losses; Gilly Tarly awaited me at the castle’s gate alongside Gendry, Jory and Beth.

Gendry strode forward as soon as I dismounted and wrapped me in a powerful hug. My little sister Jory followed as soon as he let me go and Beth Cassel took her turn. She lingered in my arms for a moment. I very much wanted to kiss her.

“Safe with you,” she said softly.

“Safe with you, too.”

And then Gilly stood before me.

“Sam?” she asked.

My throat closed and I could not speak. I simply shook my head. She threw herself at me and I held her while she cried, great sobs racking her body.

“The dragon?” she finally said.

“Yes,” I said. “Daenerys ordered it to burn us. He gave his life to save mine.”

That was close enough to the truth, I decided; I had had time to hit the ground because the dragon burned Samwell Tarly first.

“He never wanted to be brave, but he was anyway. He faced a White Walker to save me and Little Sam. He looked up to you, you know.”

She sobbed again. I took her hand and walked with her along the ditch surrounding Deepwood Motte’s walls. No one followed us. I took in this planet’s strange beauty again – a clear bright blue sky, the leaves of the trees turned red, orange and gold, the steep gray rocky hillsides in the near distance and purple mountains beyond.

“I know. I admired him as well. We would not have understood the dragons without him. And he honored my sister without questioning her birth, or that I call her sister. That meant a great deal to me.”

“What’ll become of me? And Little Sam? We doesn’t belong here, and we can’t go to the Free Folk, not with Val there and Sam dead.”

“You may come with us to Bear Island and remain as long as you wish. There is always a place for you with me. Lady Mormont will not deny me this.”

“What about Val, and our agreement?”

“I do not care about Val,” I said. “She can visit Little Sam on the island, she can tend to her own child she now bears, or she can visit the mythical place known as hell. You are under my protection, and I am very protective.”

“What’ll I do there? Work in your kitchen?”

She understood “place” to mean a servant’s position. That had not been my intent.

“Only if you wish it. Samwell died to save me. I would honor him through you. You are my honored guest for as long as you wish.”

“Thank you. I’ve always worked. I doesn’t mind working.”

“You can talk to Jeyne or Tansy about that on another day. Raise your son to honor his father, to be wise and brave. That is your work now.”

“I’m so lucky to have met you, Princess.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Had she never met me, she would still have her husband. Samwell Tarly had not wanted to face the dragon and I took him with me anyway. I had killed his brother of the heart and his brother of the egg, and now I had caused his death as well. I had robbed Gilly of a husband who loved her.

Part of me was glad he had made that fatal walk lest Tansy or Lyra insisted on going with me in his place, and I was ashamed. I still had my sisters; Gilly was alone, among the last of the Free Folk and now widowed besides. We were very similar, Gilly and I, except that none of what had happened was Gilly’s fault. 

* * *

My mare had stood quietly awaiting me while I spoke with Gilly, and she followed me into the stable so I could tend to her needs; Jory and Lyra had already put away our other horses, but I had asked them to leave mine as I knew I would treasure the solace of brushing her after dealing with Gilly.

I removed her saddle and tack, and soon felt my tensions ease as I brushed her neck; she twisted her head as I hit a pleasurable spot. I felt Beth’s thoughts approach as she slipped into the stall, and then ducked under my mare’s neck to stand between me and my horse.

“Kiss me,” she said. So I did, pressing her back against my horse’s flank. Amused, my mare held her ground while Beth and I both moaned. I had wanted this from the moment I saw her standing by the castle gates. The affirmation of life I received from her thoughts, and her tongue, did a great deal to relieve my dark mood.

“I’m glad you’re alive,” she whispered when we finally broke away.

“So am I.”

“I knew you’d be back.”

“I did not.”

She leaned forward, her head tilted, and I kissed her again. I stroked the side of her face and she tentatively placed her own hand on the side of my breast.

“I am glad,” I said, “that I am.”

Beth Cassel helped me finish caring for my horse, and we walked back into the castle, holding hands as we did so. Women of these lands often did this, so no one looked askance at us.

“Lady Barbrey believes that I have corrupted you,” I said softly.

“Not yet,” she answered. “But hopefully soon.”

Lady Sybelle had prepared a feast on hearing of our visit, and insisted on seating Gilly next to her at the Great Hall’s so-called “high table.” I had the place to Gilly’s right, with Jory to mine.

“Lady Gilly, you’ve noticed that our castle is built of wood,” she said, hushing Gilly’s objections to taking the place of honor. “We owe your husband our lives. Allow us to honor him through you.”

“I’m no lady.”

“Lady Gilly,” Sybelle repeated as though lecturing, though she actually felt very affectionate toward my friend. “Samwell Tarly was heir to Horn Hill, and therefore a lord. And he was adopted son of the new Lord of Queenscrown, and thus a lord twice over. You’re entitled to the courtesy, and I mean it sincerely.”

“I’d like it if you called me Gilly.”

“Then I shall. And you shall call me Sybelle.”

Gilly and Sybelle got on very well through the meal, and I enjoyed Jory’s company. In the morning we rode out for Deepwood Port, arriving in the early afternoon, and sailed on the evening tide.

The Glovers rode to the port with us, and stood on the small dock to see us aboard.

“You’re always welcome here,” Sybelle told Gilly. Her husband and brother by-law nodded.

“I promised the princess I’d join her on the island,” Gilly said. “But I’m grateful, truly I am.”

She wished to put open water between herself and Val, who coveted her child, and for this I did not blame her. I would ask Lord Glover to forbid Val passage from Deepwood Port to Bear Island. Hopefully Toregg was correct and she would transfer her passion to her own child.

Our passage went uneventfully; though the water had become gray and choppy I found myself adjusting. While I still puked, I did far less damage to my own clothing despite the stronger, swirling winds threatening to blow the foulness back onto me. I even managed to sleep in the captain’s bed, known as a “bunk,” without befouling it or my sisters cuddled around me.

Ravens had informed those on the island that the dragons had been defeated, and my adoptive sister Alysane had organized a welcome for us in the Keep’s Great Hall. Many of the chieftains we had met on our island tour came to celebrate, along with the people of the Keep and Mormont Port and several of Maege’s old comrades, tough women clad in the leather and furs she favored. Even Lyanna the Little Bear, who had deeply disapproved of my adoption, seemed happy to see us return.

I brought Gilly to meet Jeyne Poole, who sat alone at one of the tables.

“You saved us again,” Jeyne said. “I’m so sorry for what I said and did.”

“Do not think of it,” I said. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Anything for you, Princess.”

“Gilly is my special friend,” I explained. “Her husband gave his life to save mine. She was born north of the Wall and knows little of the ways of the North or Westeros.”

Beth joined us. She felt even more protective of Gilly since the death of Samwell.

“I can do kitchen work,” Gilly said. “And wash clothes. I tended animals, rabbits mostly. And chickens.”

Tansy took the place next to Gilly and placed a wooden cup of wine in front of her.

“You’re our friend,” she said, turning to Jeyne. “Gilly needs to live in the Keep with us.”

“Lady in waiting,” Jeyne said. “To all of the grown Mormont daughters.”

“What’s that?” Gilly asked. “I don’t know nothing about being no lady.”

“Neither do they,” Jeyne laughed. She had never laughed when I first met her. “At least not these two. Beth does, when she wants to.”

“It is not a servant’s position?” I asked.

“No,” Jeyne said. “A lady in waiting is held in higher honor; I was one to Sansa, you’ll recall. Gilly will accompany you at meals and social occasions, help you dress, tend to your clothing.”

“We have little clothing.”

“Well,” Jeyne said, “there are six of you, not counting Lyanna or the raven.”

“I can tend to weapons, too,” Gilly said. “And armor.”

“I’ll find chambers for you as close to the Mormont daughters as possible.”

“She could have mine,” Beth said, “and I could join Dejah and Tansy. If that’s all right?”

I said nothing, wishing Tansy’s approval.

“You’re there most of the time anyway,” Tansy said. “It would be fun. And I know Dejah would like that.”

“I would,” I said. “I would like that very much.” 

* * *

I spoke with Maege’s old friends, who called themselves Shield Maidens, and drank a great deal of ale with them. The soldiers also wished to welcome me home, along with many others. Somehow, I had gained the love of these people, and I returned it in full.

We joined Maege for Evening Meal, all six adult daughters and Gilly. The chieftains and Maege’s warrior women continued to feast, but Maege wished to discuss the castle onslaught against House Frey immediately. I knew my friend Gilly would not shy away from talk of violence. But mostly, I did not wish to hide from her the truths I needed to share with Aly, Jory and Beth. After we had cleared the dishes from the table, I asked her to stay with us.

“Gilly,” I began, “there are some things that you need to know. That not all of my sisters yet know.”

“You doesn’t have to,” she said. “I’m just grateful to you, to Lady Mormont, for taking us in.”

“You shared your deepest secret with me. I have not done the same with you.”

“You’re a princess,” Gilly said. “You can tell me whatever you like, or not.”

“First,” I said, “all of my sisters know that I can understand the thoughts of others.”

“I knew you wasn’t like the rest of us. You know what we’re thinking?”

“If I concentrate, yes. But it feels as though hundreds or thousands of people are shouting at me, all the time. So I usually block them out.”

“That’s how you always knew who you could trust, and who you couldn’t.”

“That is correct,” I said. “Please speak of this to no one.”

“Lady-in-waiting means keeper-of-secrets,” Gilly said. “That’s what Jeyne says.”

“There is more,” I said, “that Maege, Tansy and Lyra already know.

“I came to these lands in search of my husband, John Carter. I learned from Daenerys that he leads the Dothraki, the wild horse-warriors of the Eastern Continent.”

“How would she know?” Beth asked.

“She married him.”

“Is that why you killed her?” Aly asked.

I hesitated.

“Dejah,” Beth said, leaning across the table toward me. “I respect you more than anyone I’ve ever known. You can tell us the truth.”

I looked at the table instead of meeting Beth Cassel’s eyes. It had been polished to a very smooth shine.

“Partially. She was insane and had already murdered hundreds of people. The Lords of the North had agreed that she had to die, and she had killed Howland Reed and Samwell Tarly. But I had already killed her dragons. I could have taken her as a prisoner.

“I am not proud of what I did. I should have told you. I was shocked, and shamed. She took my husband.”

“And you took her head,” Beth said.

“Yes.”

“The Lords of the North agreed on her fate,” Lyra said. “You only carried out their will.”

“I wanted her to die.”

“I’m sure you did,” Lyra said. “So did I. And of course you knew her words to be true.”

“Yes, I read her thoughts. I saw her memories of my husband giving her orgasm. And then I sliced off her head.”

“Dejah,” Beth said again, softly. “Look at me.”

I did.

“I would die for you. So would every woman at this table.”

“I know,” I choked out.

“Well, I’m glad you cut that little bitch’s head off,” Gilly snarled, “and killed her gods-damned dragons.” She caught herself. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t say such things at the lady’s table.”

“No, dear,” Maege said. “She murdered your husband. You’re entitled. And I’m the one who said Daenerys had to die, who voiced the will of the Lords.”

“Dejah,” Lyra said, “how could John Carter marry another?”

“He may have forgotten me,” I said. “He sometimes forgets his past. Or he may have tired of me. In our lands, we can end a marriage. He may have wished to marry a woman who could satisfy him sexually.

“My presence may be a danger to you all.”

“Last I heard,” Aly said, “The Dothraki still hadn’t taught their horses to swim. If they had a fleet, Daenerys wouldn’t have come alone.”

“I know John Carter,” I said. “He will seek vengeance on his wife’s killer. On me.”

“And we won’t be separated from our sister,” Aly shot back. “Here we stand. That includes you.”

“Do you wish to return to Winterfell?” I asked Gilly.

“No. I can’t fight for you, but I won’t leave you, neither. You’re my princess and I’m your lady in waiting, and that’s how it is.”

“John Carter is a long way from here,” Maege said. “As I told you when we found that Rolston was spying on you, you’re my daughter. We won’t abandon you.”

“I am your daughter,” I repeated. “And proud to be so.”

“Are you fit to resume planning for the attack on the Twins?”

“It will occupy my mind,” I said. “And that will probably be helpful.”

“Please do,” Maege said. “All conditions as we had already decided.” 

* * *

Lyra and Jory accompanied us to our chambers, and Jory helped Gilly settle Little Sam for the night as the rest of us sat before the fire. Tansy sat behind me on our wide seat while I nestled on the bearskin with Lyra and Beth on either side of me.

“You knew?” Beth asked Lyra.

“A little,” Lyra said. “She told us the bare outline in Winterfell, but didn’t speak of it again until just now.”

“Dejah,” Beth said, touching the side of my face. “Come back to us.”

“I am here.”

“So are we. Whatever comes, we’re here with you.”

“You did not murder John Carter’s wife.”

“I would have,” Beth said, “if I’d been there.”

“You didn’t murder her, either,” Lyra said. “You executed her for murder, under a lawful order. She committed mass murder. She would have done it again at Winterfell.”

“That is true,” I said. “It was in her mind. She demanded that we give her the Starks, and Howland Reed told her they were already dead. She named him a liar. But in her mind, she intended to turn the dragons on Winterfell regardless of whether we gave her the Starks. She would have received orgasm from the screams of the melting people.”

“Truly?” Tansy asked, stroking my hair. “You knew that and you still think you did wrong to kill her?”

“You saved our lives,” Lyra said. “And no telling how many more.”

“The dragons were already dead,” I countered. “She could not kill anyone without them.”

Jory had sprawled in front of us, her chin resting on Lyra’s extended legs. She looked up at me.

“Dejah, any man who could marry that woman isn’t worthy of you.”

My sisters nodded.

“What shall I do?” I asked.

“His marrying someone else ended your marriage,” Tansy said. “Stay with your sisters, live as you will. If John Carter returns, deal with him then.”

I snuggled between my sisters and slept uneasily before the fire. I detected Gilly’s presence several times during the night, as she kept the fire stoked with fresh wood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next episode, Dejah Thoris considers how to send the Mormonts' regards to House Frey.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris assists a baker.

Chapter Three

In the morning, Gilly had laid the table in our chambers with coffee and some of Hot Pie’s cherry turnovers before we had even awakened. I began to see the value of a lady in waiting. After morning exercises and sword practice, I went to my office in the House Guard barracks to begin planning for the assault on the Freys.

House Frey had violated these lands’ very limited tenets of decency, murdering guests at what became known as the “Red Wedding.” Those slain included Dacey Mormont, Maege’s eldest daughter, and 402 Mormont soldiers had not returned though it was not clear how many of those had been killed at the Twins. I well understood Maege’s rage, as the incident would have been outrageous on Barsoom as well, though not exactly for the same reasons.

But while I felt the pain of Maege and my adoptive sisters, in truth I would have done anything my adoptive mother asked, including overseeing the massacre of hundreds of non-combatants. We intended to kill every Frey old enough to be conscious of their family identity. I did feel uneasy about her demands, but my love for my new family and gratitude toward Maege overrode my hesitation.

I had participated in one castle onslaught already, capturing Harrenhal and helping to slaughter the hapless Holy Hundred. I could easily convince myself that this had been an acceptable, if not righteous, act due to the Hundred’s embrace of child sex. But it had been an exercise in terrorism and murder, in which I had killed an innocent woman and four sick men unable to resist, and attempted to kill a cat.

Every member of the Holy Hundred had participated in their vile rites, but not every member of House Frey had been a party to the Red Wedding. We would attack the Twins with the intent of killing innocents. And true to my promise to Maege, I would prepare this assault to the best of my ability.

As I recalled from my passage north with Tansy and Arya Stark, the double castle occupied both banks of a wide river known as the Green Fork, with one castle on either bank and a bridge between, with a third, much smaller fortification at the bridge’s halfway point.

In my first draft of an attack plan, I intended that we assault all three simultaneously: we would carry small lightweight boats made of animal skins, commonly used in the waters around Bear Island. Assault teams would cross the river to attack both the right-bank castle and the small one in the middle.

As I drew a map, basing details on my memory as best I could, Melly the healer entered my office to tell me about our alcohol distilling machine’s production and the steps she had taken to prevent the Keep’s inhabitants from finding and drinking the output. Seeing my map, she looked inquisitively at my creation.

“The Twins,” she said. “From up above, like a bird.”

I explained our task, and my lack of information.

“We passed through on the way North,” she said. “Be sure you talk to Gendry, Pia and the others.”

She bent over the map, picked up a writing feather and used it to point without marking the map.

“All along here, the roadway through the castle, there’s a wall on either side. A few gates, all shut when we passed through. They don’t want no one looking into their castle who’s coming through.”

“How high is this wall?”

She thought for a moment.

“Tall enough so’s you couldn’t look over it from horseback nor standing in a wagon. Say, 10 feet? Maybe 12? Thick enough so’s guards could walk along it.”

I followed her advice and spoke to the others, but learned little more. Yet Melly had given me a crucial piece of information: assaulting the gates and breaking through them would gain us little. An attacking force would then be trapped in the walled passage and cut down mercilessly with bolts, arrows and even stones.

We would need to conduct three assaults at once, and I could only be present at one. I had hoped to deploy the explosive powder we had used to kill Daenerys’ black dragon to blow down the gates at the castle I did not personally attack, but that would not help. Nor would subterfuge that brought attackers into the castle in loaded wagons bring success – concern over such an attack had no doubt led to construction of the inner walls.

We would have to climb the outer walls and attack from above. I could scale them unseen, using telepathy to time my movements for moments when the guards did not watch the place where I climbed. But that would only work for one castle, and we had two to capture as well as the small one in the middle of the bridge.

Fortunately, The Twins only had a single curtain wall linking an uneven series of fortified watch towers. Most large castles I had observed here – Harrenhal and Winterfell – had a double layer of such protection. At least it should be possible to broach their defenses by stealth.

“I would like to enter the castle,” I told Melly a few days later, “so I could see for myself. But I fear my copper skin is too well-known in Westeros.”

“Wait here. I think I can fix that.”

She returned in a few moments with a small jar and one of the brushes usually used for paint.

“Black walnut extract,” she explained. “Use it for all manner of ills. It’s also the dye that makes your favorite brown dresses brown. Give me your arm.”

She painted a small patch of my skin, turning it dark brown.

“And now you’re a Summer Islander, instead of . . . wherever.”

“Sothoryos.”

“As you say.” She did not believe me. I did not care.

“Will it work on pink skin like yours?”

“You’re the only one who really needs to be hidden.”

“I will be less obvious in a group.”

“This is true. Let’s see.”

She painted a patch of her own arm. It also came out darker, though less dark than mine.

“That should do,” she said. “Might need a second coat. Just keep in mind, your hair will pass even though it’s not curly like a true Summer Islander, but not your sisters’ hair. The same dye should work on hair.”

“Do many Summer Islanders come this far North?”

“Not that I’ve seen. Black hair and brown skin should be enough. You’ll have to cover your face with a hood.”

“You cannot darken it with the juice?”

“That only happens in the stories,” Melly said. “There’s no way I could color your skin up under the hairline and around your eyes. You’d look like a raccoon. A reversed raccoon, I guess.”

I would have to reconsider this plan; a visitor deliberately shielding her face would awaken suspicion in the stupidest of guards, perhaps even a Frey.

Maege and Lyra came to visit a few days afterwards, concerned that I had isolated myself and curious as to my assault plans. I showed them the map, and told them what I had learned from the Brotherhood’s people.

“This inner wall makes the gates a trap,” I explained. “We will have to go over the curtain walls. The problem I have not solved is how to attack all three castles at once.”

My adoptive mother and sister stared at the map, and thought.

“Do we have to take them both?” Lyra asked.

“If we wish to kill all of the Freys,” I said, “I believe that we do.”

“What if,” Maege asked, “we only attack Walder’s castle?”

“Which is it?”

“The eastern castle.”

“You are sure?”

“That’s what the Guards who escaped the Red Wedding said.”

I should have remembered that a few Mormont fighters had escaped, and questioned them.

“In that case,” I said, “I believe that I would scale the walls in as shadowy a spot as can be found, together with Ryk and Toregg, using my telepathy to assure that we are not spotted. We will drop ropes down for the others to follow, and secure the landing spot for the others.”

“And if the alarm is raised?”

“Even if spotted, we will be difficult to find. It is easy to hide when you can read your pursuer’s thoughts. We will escape, and try again later.”

“I would go with you over the walls,” Lyra said.

“Toregg and Ryk are excellent climbers,” I said. “And very fierce.”

“So am I.”

“I know. But you must command the Mormont troops waiting below.”

“This plan puts you in a great deal of danger,” Maege said. “You trust the wildlings?”

“I do,” I said. “They are sincere in their wish to show themselves part of Northern society. As for the risk, battle always carries risk. But we will have the element of surprise, and I will be able to tell if that element is lost. From what I can gather, the Freys believe their castle impregnable. And they will not expect an attack in Winter.”

“What about Tansy and Jory?” Lyra asked.

“And Gendry,” I added. “I plan to use the explosive powder to help destroy the bridge. They will remain outside the castle, and bring a sledge carrying the explosives into the castle after it is secured.”

“Why must we wreck the bridge?” Lyra continued.

“Maege wishes House Frey destroyed,” I said. “The bridge was the foundation of their wealth and power. Knocking it into the river is a powerful symbol of their house’s fall.”

Maege nodded agreement, and made the humming sound that signals thought.

“You’ll attack in a snowstorm?”

“That is my intent. I would like more information: the size of their garrison, the location of its barracks, the location of Walder Frey’s chambers.”

“How long will you occupy the castle?”

“That depends on how long it takes to burn it. The Freys surely have boats and can cross the river from the other castle to reinforce or counter-attack through entrances we may not be able to find.”

“Not if the river’s filled with ice,” Lyra pointed out.

“Will the river freeze here?” I asked.

“I have no idea,” my adoptive sister said. “What we need is a Frey of the Crossing.”

“To put to the question,” I added.

“That’s right.”

“Ser Wylis,” I said out loud.

“Manderly?” Lyra asked. “I don’t know that he’s visited the Twins.”

“I believe the Manderlys have Frey prisoners,” I said. “And Ser Wylis promised that he would help us.”

“Send a raven,” Maege said. “You’ll need to go to White Harbor yourself.”

“I’ll go with you,” Lyra said.

“I would like that.” 

* * *

While we waited for a response from House Manderly, I settled into Mormont Keep’s winter routine. Storms now struck the island often, and I wondered how we would make the sea voyage to Deepwood Port.

“Oh it’s rough,” our usual ship captain explained, “I can’t deny. And there’s a great deal of danger. But much of that comes from the cargo – either it shifts, and presses the ship under, or she rides too low with too little freeboard. We’ll be in ballast, meaning just enough weight to trim the ship properly.”

“What of storms?”

“Aye, there’s great danger there. There’s storm spotters on the mountain, who’ll send word down by raven if they see rough weather coming over the Bay of Ice. That will help some. But it’s a roll of the dice all the same.”

“Let me pilot your ship.” Asha Greyjoy had overheard, and took an uninvited seat at our table in the Keep’s Great Hall.

“You’re the Iron Born captain,” our own captain said.

“Aye,” Asha replied. “I was, anyway. We’ve methods that you do not. I can get your ship safely to Deepwood Port. ‘tis only two or three days, is it not?”

“You’re a pilot?” our captain asked.

“The Princess here cut our pilot into two pieces,” Asha said. “But I’ve served as one in the past.”

“They’re good sailors,” our captain turned to me. “I can’t deny that. It’s up to you whether you think you can trust her.”

“Why would you assist me?” I asked Asha. “I killed your brother and many of your crew, and I cut your pilot in half.”

“All in war,” she answered. “I gambled, I lost. You let me keep my life. Now I have to make my way here.”

She appeared to speak the truth.

“What do you hope to gain?”

“Your trust. The people here see that you trust me, then life might became somewhat less harsh for me.”

“They have beaten you in the barracks.”

“Of course they have. You knew that would happen. I never leave my food unattended. And no one’s tried to rape me if that’s what you’re asking.”

I found no deception. I made my decision.

“You will pilot the ship, under our captain’s direction. You will ride with me to White Harbor and back.”

“Who else rides?”

“My sister Lyra.”

“Two of you, two prisoners. What if I decide to escape?”

“Then I will kill you without remorse.” 

* * *

Only a few snows had fallen when Jory sought me out as I brushed my mare. I worried about my horses, penned up for years. I did not see how they could survive without exercise.

“We won’t get many more chances,” she said, “to ride up the mountain.”

“Then we must go.”

Jory made sure our saddlebags had emergency supplies, for winter storms could strike Bear Island with little warning even though winter had not fully arrived. Along with her dog Ralf we set out before the morning had become very old, riding through the forest to our favorite lakeside meadow.

The trees had lost their leaves, and the forest now seemed dreary and slightly foreboding. I could still detect the thoughts of animals, though I saw none, and Ralf patrolled for their scents. Neither of us found any signs of bears.

Our meadow looked very different than I recalled: much of the grass had turned yellow or brown, and many of the trees had lost their leaves. The small lake’s waters reflected the skies above and appeared slate-gray rather than blue; I did not mind this change so much as the color, considered beautiful by many people of this planet, instead reminded me of blood and gore.

“Winter is coming,” I said when we had dismounted. I stuck the bear-spear I had brought along into the ground in case another of the beasts wished to attack us.

“That’s what the Starks used to say,” Jory said. “It always sounded ominous, but it’s not like it took any great knowledge of the future. Eventually they had to be right.”

“You have experienced Winter?”

“I probably had six years when it ended,” Jory said, throwing back her arms and looking up at the sky. “All I really remember is that we never could go outside. And when we did, there was snow.”

We walked along the edge of the lake, holding hands. Ralf trotted alongside us, while the horses cropped what little green grass they could find.

“You did not see snow for ten years?”

“We have cold spells with what we call summer snows. Those can last for months.”

“Do you remember a time before winter?”

“A little. I know that I knew about green trees and a world without ice and snow covering everything.”

“What did you do during winter?”

“About the same thing you’d do on a stormy day during summer. Play inside with toys, lessons, that sort of thing.”

“Lyanna was born during winter?”

“Yes. Not a coincidence that there are so many children her age, is it?”

I wondered who had fathered the child, given the Mormont family prohibition on sex partners from the island.

“People have sex more often during winter. Does that not lead to damaged children, if they cannot have sunlight and exercise?”

“Winter’s children are said to be smaller and weaker, it’s true. And winter babies die far more easily. As for the sex, I couldn’t say.”

“You are frustrated.”

“And you read minds. I’m six-and-ten, seven-and-ten very soon, and I’ve yet to, you know.”

“Have a man inside you?”

“Where did you hear that?” she asked, then smiled. “Lyra.”

“Yes, Lyra. She also told me that it is a family rule that you cannot receive orgasm from a man of Bear Island.”

“That’s true,” Jory said. “Hardly seems fair, since women can . . . you know.”

“But women cannot get one another with child.”

“You’ve been with both men and women?” she asked, blushing. I nodded. “What’s it like?”

“I have little direct experience with men like those of your people,” I said. “Only John Carter. His sex organ did not fit inside mine, so we had to exchange pleasure by other methods.”

“You’ve read the minds of people, though, right?”

“When I first arrived, before I realized how personal and private people here considered sex, I did so freely. For some it is very enjoyable, for others, particularly women, it is less so.”

“What makes it good?”

“Tansy would know more than I,” I said. “She has had sex with many people.”

“You shouldn’t say that to anyone else,” Jory said. “And you’re right. But you’re easier to talk to, about things like this. Since you’re reading my thoughts, I can’t very well be embarrassed, since you already know what I don’t say. And that makes it easier to say it out loud.”

“You are my little sister,” I said. “And I love you with my entire being. You can tell me, or ask me, anything.”

“I want to make love to a man,” she said, decisively. “And I’m terrified of it, all at the same time.”

“It is not difficult,” I said. “I can teach you what I know.”

“I’m more worried about the man.”

“So you should be,” I said. “From what I learned while spying on others, few men here can satisfy a woman. Those who can, do so because they put effort into delivering satisfaction as well as receiving it.”

“Love doesn’t matter?”

“I believe it makes one more willing, or eager, to see to your partner’s enjoyment. But it does not prevent a clumsy lover’s clumsiness.”

“When Winter is over,” she said. “I will sail to the mainland and find a lover. It’s the Mormont way. I’d like it if you would help me choose, to avoid someone who might hurt me.”

“I am glad to help you,” I said. “I cannot guarantee that reading thoughts will deliver the best choice, but it will eliminate the clearly dangerous. And I will kill anyone who harms you.”

“I know that. You’re my big sister and you love me.”

“And that,” I said, borrowing Gilly’s phrasing, “is how it is.” 

* * *

Other than my dread of sailing through it, I found that I rather enjoyed stormy weather. Beth and I often nestled before the fire in our chambers while Tansy read to us about the history or environment of Westeros. Gilly would join us if Little Sam slept, and sometimes Lyra or Jory as well. Alysane and Maege also appeared on occasion. The sound of rain sheeting against the roof and the walls, and the howling of the wind, made our spot seem very safe and comfortable. I would not have minded staying there for months of Winter. After years of Winter, I would probably have enjoyed myself far less.

After reading of a fight between dragons to just Beth and I, Tansy slid off the seat behind us and settled against my left side, with Beth on my right. Beth looked across at her, then reached across and tentatively touched her arm.

“Tansy,” she said. “Thank you for letting me join you here.”

“You’re our sister. Why wouldn’t I want you with us?”

“Because I kissed Dejah. Twice.”

“I enjoyed kissing both of you,” I said. “I enjoyed it very much.”

Tansy shook her head.

“It’s obviously no problem for Dejah,” she said. “Do you want more than kissing?”

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” Beth said. “I guess you know that. I’ve never actually kissed a woman, for real, besides Dejah. Much less anything more. I want to, but I don’t know that I’m ready for that yet.

“I thought she was going to die. I didn’t really think about anything else. And then I was so happy that she didn’t die.”

“I did the same thing,” Tansy said. “Same reasons. Right in front of the Lords of the North and the soldiers and the dragons.”

“Even Lyra kissed me,” I added. “After I killed the dragons. And she does not wish sex with me.”

“You asked her?” Beth asked, smiling.

“She offered, but did not truly wish to. She feared that my receiving orgasm with Tansy would become a barrier between us.”

“That’s probably something you were meant to keep to yourself,” Beth said. “But I suppose I have some of that fear as well.”

“Beth,” Tansy said, reaching over me to take her hand. “Nothing will come between us. If you and Dejah want to lay together someday, I won’t be upset. Perhaps a little jealous. I might ask to join, but I won’t be angry.”

“I will leave you both soon,” I said. “I ride for White Harbor with Lyra and Asha.”

“Are you sure about the Iron Bitch?” Beth asked. “I still think we should have killed her.”

“Her thoughts did not show deception. And she believes she has the skills to bring us safely to Deepwood Port. The ship captain dislikes her, but agrees that she has knowledge that he and his crew do not.”

“Take me with you,” Beth said.

“It is only a brief journey,” I said.

“What do you think?” she asked Tansy.

“I don’t like being separated from my sisters,” Tansy said. “But you’re both very capable of taking care of yourselves.”

I made a decision.

“Come with us,” I said. “It will be cold, with snow and wind.”

“You’ll keep us warm,” Beth said.

“You must promise that you will not kill Asha Greyjoy unless she betrays us.”

“I promise.”

“You will be all right without us?” I asked Tansy.

“We don’t even know yet if the Manderlys still hold Frey prisoners,” she said. “But like you said, it’s not a lengthy journey. Jory and Aly will still be here.”

I slept much more easily that night, once again lying before the fire wrapped in furs. Gilly built up the fire during the night, and laid out coffee in the morning. How had I lived for 800 of this planet’s years without her?

In the morning, Jeyne Poole had a new assignment for me: I helped my baker friend Hot Pie move the heavy iron ovens we had looted from Castle Black into position to give Mormont Keep its own bakery. He had already marked their places on the floor using the soft white rock known as chalk, and other work crews had installed ducts leading to vents to take away the dangerous fumes. I could not be certain, but he appeared fatter than he had when I found him in Winterfell.

“You are glad you came to Bear Island?” I asked him as I slid the first oven into place.

“Oh, princess,” he said. “It’s . . . I bake all day. No one hits me. No one even yells at me. I tell the head cook what I want to put on the next day’s menu and she just asks if I have all the ingredients.”

“The work is not hard?”

“’Course it is, but when it’s work you like, seems like it’s not work at all.”

“You are happy here?”

“Happy?” he wanted to cry, but restrained himself. “No one’s never asked me that. Yes, I’m happy here. It’s all I ever wanted.”

“You bake all day?”

“I do. You excused me from training with swords, I thought ’cause you wanted me in here instead.”

“You are under my protection,” I said. “I do not want you involved in fighting.”

“Cook said everyone’s ‘sposed to train.”

“There are exceptions,” I said. “Many who came late to Bear Island are excused: Lady Tansy, Lady Jeyne, Lord Tycho, Pia and Gilly.”

“They’s mostly women.”

“Not all,” I said. “And they are all people I would not see harmed. That includes you.”

I paused.

“If you wish to learn to fight, I will teach you. If you do not wish it, I will see that you are not forced.”

“Why do you look after me?”

I had the stove placed exactly on the marks, and hopped atop it for a moment before I leaned back to fit its exhaust pipe into the waiting ventilation shaft.

“Hot Pie,” I said, momentarily wondering what his real name might be, for surely his mother had not named him for a pastry, “I have met very few good people in these lands. Most of them have died, some at my hand, some because I could not save them. I would not have you become one of them.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You made me cherry pie. I failed to save your friend. I owe you a debt.”

“You doesn’t owe me nothing. And I’m glad to bake pies for a real princess.”

For the rest of the day, I shifted ovens and connected them to the shafts. It was honest, hard work that kept me from thinking about my husband or the threat he posed to my family, and at the day’s end I could be satisfied with my contribution. 

* * *

Curious about our island’s winter economy, I visited my sister Tansy while she worked with Jeyne and Tycho. I mostly listened quietly, and when it seemed appropriate I asked after their investment planning. I was very proud of having brought the Dreadfort’s gold to Bear Island, and hoped it would make my new family and its people prosperous.

“Much depends on the length of Winter,” Tycho said, pulling his strange narrow beard as he often did while calculating. “The maester here believed this Winter would last for many years, and that’s definitely been the pattern throughout recorded history.”

“It is possible,” I said, “that this has changed.”

“I agree with you,” the one-time Braavosi banker said. “Braavos is not as far north as Bear Island, but still lies in the north. Yet winter is never as severe as on this side of the Narrow Sea.”

“You do not believe these winters are natural.”

“No, I don’t. I think they arise from cold generated by the Wall, somehow. Or maybe something north of the Wall.”

I had not considered this possibility, but I could see a kernel of truth within.

“There are no maesters in Braavos,” he went on. “Anyone can study the natural world, history, literature - though they usually need a patron to do so. Knowledge is spread far outside a narrow group of grey-cowled hermits.”

“You are one of these people?”

“Oh no,” he laughed gently. “I am what I seem, a banker. But I’ve read of their work, and spoken to them in coffee houses and at evening sessions hosted by my colleagues and others.”

“I would love to attend such sessions,” Tansy said. “Do women do so?”

“Yes, in Braavos.”

“Then we must have such sessions here,” I said. “And drink coffee.”

“That will help pass the Winter,” Tycho said. “No matter how long it lasts.”

“How can we invest our gold,” I asked, “with the length of winter uncertain?”

“Not very well,” he admitted. “Lady Tansy and Lady Jeyne have prepared a longer list of investments on the island, all fairly conservative and keeping with Lady Mormont’s directive to leave the culture of Bear Island as unchanged as possible. And I, humbly, have my own list of opportunities to seek along the western shorelines of Westeros.”

“Humbly?”

“A manner of speaking, princess. I am quite proud of them and think they will do well, if we can find the right partners.”

“All of these must wait until Winter’s end?”

“I’m afraid so,” Tansy said. “Including your military projects. Maege approved rebuilding the fortress in the inlet’s mouth, and the increase in the House Guard. But we can’t get the materials and masons until sea travel is safe again. Finding recruits is going to be impossible until they can travel here to sign up.”

I began to understand more of my new home, why it seemed so stunted and stagnant: Winter killed business, and brought not only trade but the exchange of ideas to a halt, at least in the northern lands. So much of their effort during the warm years went to repairing the damage of the frozen years that progress came slowly if at all.

“If we’re right about the short winter,” Tycho added, “we’ll be ready to move quickly to take advantage. Don’t despair yet, Princess. Your gold will work for Bear Island.” 

* * *

Samwell Tarly had begun to teach Gilly to read the letters of this place, and Tansy now worked to help both our lady-in-waiting and I master the written version of their language. I had a much more difficult time of it than I had anticipated, as I once again received a reminder of how much I depended on telepathy to understand their speech. In truth, I still did not speak their language well, but instead picked concepts out of their thoughts and relied on the same technique to form my own phrases. The written word conveyed no thoughts, only ink.

I had been intellectually lazy, and much like a child of this place, I became determined not to be outdone by Gilly. Their harsh and angular letters lacked the gentle geometry of the writing of Barsoom – all of our peoples share the same written language – and like John Carter’s language they represented verbal sounds rather than concepts. Not only did I have to learn new symbols, but a new way of thinking.

I now understood why so many of these people read aloud, or at least whispered or mouthed the words as they read. I found myself having to do the same. Tansy was very patient with both of us, and I learned to write my name in their letters and to sound out simple children’s stories. I had a great deal of practice ahead of me before I would be ready for more complicated literature.

Tycho took the time to show me their numerical systems, both that used in Westeros and of the eastern continent. I had seen Tansy use both. The Westerosi numbers were extremely primitive, clearly based on renderings of bundles of sticks. They had no concept of zero.

“How can they perform any simple mathematics?” I asked him. “Even multiplication or division?”

“They can’t,” he answered simply. “It means they have no meaningful accounting, either. Lady Tansy is one of the few I’ve encountered who understands the principles.”

And now I understood why Lyra had found it amazing that I could perform simple calculations in my head. Tansy had long ago explained that brothels were one of the few institutions of Westeros to employ credit and other sophisticated practices.

“Do you bankers cheat the Westerosi?”

“The Iron Bank maintains scrupulous accounts, even for barbarians. Others . . . are less scrupulous. The customers may on rare occasion sense that they’ve been defrauded, but they’re unable to determine how it happened.”

“Have we cheated our partners?”

“No. We’re trying to forge long-term business relationships. Swindling potential partners for short-term gain is most unwise.”

I pondered this new realization, which should have struck me far earlier. The people of these lands were, for all practical purposes, innumerate. Whatever gifts of technology the star goddess might try to bestow would be rendered useless by their inability to perform simple calculations. Even if I wished to do so, I would not be able to advance their society by disseminating the science of Barsoom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next episode, Dejah Thoris returns to Winterfell.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris wears her purple gown.

Chapter Four

The raven from White Harbor confirmed that House Manderly had one surviving Frey prisoner, a knight named Hosteen who had commanded part of the Frey forces in the North. Ser Wylis cautioned that Hosteen was known as “Ser Stupid” for good reason, but had grown up in the Twins and lived there until the outbreak of war. I was welcome to question him in White Harbor or bring him back to Bear Island as I saw fit.

Lyra cautioned me that even with my enhanced strength and stamina, and my innate body heat, the trek across the North during Winter was not something to undertake lightly. Few attempted to travel, and of those who did, many simply disappeared.

Tansy wrote to Ser Davos in Winterfell and to Lord Glover, asking their assistance with lodging and with horses. Both Asha and the captain were adamant that we could not carry horses on the ship during this voyage. While the roads leading from Deepwood Port to Winterfell and on to White Harbor had inns along them, bad weather could force us to camp by the roadside. Lyra warned that not all innkeepers wished to deal with strangers during Winter – food could easily become priceless in a years-long Winter, and no amount of gold would buy any.

When the captain and Asha agreed that we had clear weather, or as clear as could be expected, we boarded the ship and headed for Deepwood Port. Maege and our sisters saw us off, standing on the dock to wave until they were out of sight.

I saw little of the voyage; the ship heaved violently and I remained in the captain’s cabin, puking frequently into buckets. In my lucid moments I monitored the thoughts of Asha, the captain and the helmsman, seeking any sign of impending treachery, but none surfaced. Asha did her best to keep us alive and afloat, while the crew learned new techniques for sailing in bad weather.

Lord Glover had arranged space for us in Deepwood Port’s inn; many of these establishments simply closed for the years of Winter lest guests eat all of their food. The crew visited the lone brothel, as these establishments never closed though once Winter set in the whores often demanded food as the price of their services.

I needed two days at the inn to recover from the sea voyage; my wonderful sisters cleaned my clothes and furs. The small town stood under a blanket of snow that barely topped my ankles. The locals assured me that by mid-Winter it would stand over my head, but for the moment business continued and workers still dug foundations for the new port facilities and other buildings, knowing that the work might not be completed until years later.

On the morning of the third day, the four of us set out for Deepwood Motte on horses provided by House Glover. The road had been cleared of snow by passing traffic, and we had no trouble. The day was cold and clear, and we made it to the castle before nightfall.

Galbart Glover greeted us warmly, and invited my sisters and I to his private “solar,” which had the glass windows prized by high lords and a very nice fire. Asha remained in our quarters, and I monitored her thoughts which showed the rhythms of sleep.

“Not many travel in Winter,” he said after greeting us and handing out goblets of heated wine. “Can you share your errand?”

“Glover men died at the Red Wedding,” I said, “Did they not?”

“Yes,” he said. “Many of our finest were slaughtered, and many good friends of mine from the king and Robin Flint to your sister Dacey.”

“And your feelings toward House Frey?” I asked.

“I want to kill them,” he said. “All of them.”

“This is our errand.”

He nodded.

“What can I do, can my House do, to assist?”

“We plan to assault the Twins in the dead of winter, with my sisters and the entire Mormont Guard. To do so, I need more information about the castles. House Manderly has a prisoner raised there. We will go there and I will question him.”

“Ser Hosteen Frey,” Lord Glover said. “A Red Wedding participant, I believe.”

I felt my sister Lyra tense, and her fingers dug into my arm.

“Princess,” Lord Glover went on, “I would ask a favor, a tremendous favor. I would join you in this errand, with as many of our House Guard as you require. We have perhaps three hundred under arms; I’d name two hundred of those young, fully fit and well-trained. I don’t think we can raise many levies, if any, until spring.”

I nodded, thinking.

“You saw me fight the dragon.”

Now he nodded.

“You know that I am very good at killing people.”

He nodded again.

“I have not yet decided how we will attack, but my thoughts centered on doing so during a storm, during which I would climb the wall with two expert climbers of the Free Folk, and we would drop ropes to allow our own Guard to join us.”

“You’ll not try to carry the gates?”

“We have people who have passed through the Twins, and report that route to be a death trap.”

“I don’t need an answer now,” he said. “I understand you are still planning. But in your plans, consider my men at your disposal whenever and wherever you decide.”

Two hundred more men could be useful, if for nothing else than to secure the area around the castle and prevent anyone escaping.

“If I may offer a suggestion?” Lord Glover asked. I nodded. “House Manderly is aware of your intentions?”

“Broadly so, but not that we are moving forward with them.”

“Winter travel is difficult. Perhaps you could ask them to bring Ser Stupid to Winterfell? The White Knife, the river leading north from White Harbor, rarely freezes and they can make most of their journey by boat.”

“Could we use your ravens?”

“Of course. It being Winter, we should send two.”

Robett and Sybelle Glover soon joined us for Evening Meal, and I explained my theory that a short Winter could be in the offing.

“You have noticed how quickly the days shortened?” I asked. “Compared to previous Winters?”

“I was but a thick-headed youth then,” Robett said. “You’d have to ask the maester, and I assure you he’s far less charming a dinner companion.”

“I do not doubt you,” I said, recalling the unpleasant Rolston. “I studied such things in my homeland, and believe there to be a chance we will see a brief Winter.”

“That would be wonderful,” said Lady Sybelle, who had become far friendlier upon learning that we would depart on the next day. “Women study as maesters in Sothoryos?”

“Most study of the natural world is done by women,” I said. “Art and literature as well.”

“And the men?” her husband asked.

“They fight, conduct business, and fight.”

“Yet you fight as well,” Lady Sybelle said.

“A princess is trained to fight,” I said. “But I was not a warrior in my homeland.”

“Then the actual fighters,” Galbart Glover said, “must be formidable indeed.”

“They are.”

“Princess,” Lady Sybelle looked at me questioningly, “how did Asha Greyjoy come to be in your service?”

“Do you know her?”

“She took me captive, along with my children.”

“She treated you properly?” I asked.

“We’re alive,” Lady Sybelle said. “No one molested us. But we were taken from our home.”

I paused, unsure how to answer without upsetting Beth Cassel.

“The Iron Born invaded Bear Island,” I said. “We met them in battle. We killed most of them, and the few remaining submitted. My sister Alysane added Asha Greyjoy to the House Guard so that we could keep watch on her.”

“Wise,” Robett Glover said.

“She is skilled at navigating a ship through icy waters, and helped us arrive safely. So far she has held to her oath.”

We left for Winterfell at first light; I had slept in the bed provided, along with my sisters, and relegated Asha Greyjoy to the floor. She curled up in a fur without complaint.

At least for the first segment of our journey, the snow remained little more than ankle-deep and we rode without interruption except to walk our horses. We saw no other traffic, nor evidence of any except two fairly fresh sets of shod hoof-prints, one leading in each direction, and several older ones.

“Trust me yet?” Asha asked, riding alongside me.

“You have done as promised,” I said, “and fulfilled your oath.”

“You’ll yet be glad you let me live.”

“You were very helpful guiding our ship.”

“What would you know of that?” she laughed. “You were too busy puking.”

“It is my one weakness.”

“I think you’ve got at least two more,” she said, nodding toward my sisters riding ahead of us.

“No. They are my strength.”

“I’d hope to be so lucky.”

“What is it you seek?”

“At this moment,” she asked, “or in the longer term?”

“Longer term.”

“I can never go back to the Iron Islands; my uncle will flay my skin from my carcass. You took three of my ships. Rumor says the Lady wants to crew one as a warship. I see myself as its captain.”

“Raiding the Bay of Ice under the Mormont banner?”

“You watch me. On this journey, and at the Twins. Then see if you feel the same.”

“That is fair,” I said. I still did not detect deception, though she silently rebuked herself for sharing a fantasy she did not truly believe could become reality.

We arrived at an inn as the shadows lengthened, and Lyra pounded on its door. Eventually it cracked open and a middle-aged woman with a very red nose peeked out.

“She-Bears,” she said to someone inside. “Four of them.”

“Let them in,” a male voice said.

We entered, to find a man whose thoughts made him the innkeeper and two older children, one male and one female. Seeing our swords, he wondered if he had just made a fatal mistake.

“We would like a hot meal,” Lyra said. “And a room with a fire.”

“One room?”

“One room.”

Reluctantly, the innkeeper decided to provide what Lyra asked. I nodded to Beth and Asha, and they went to secure our horses. The innkeeper’s family moved slowly to begin preparing our meal – fried slices of the smoked ass of a pig, known as “ham,” and fried potatoes – but did not speak.

“We’ve stopped here many times in the past,” Lyra said, “and always received friendly greetings. Have you a problem with House Mormont?”

“Winter’s here,” the innkeeper said, “and food’s scarce.”

“You seem to have plenty,” I said. “And we have gold.”

“Can’t eat gold,” he answered. “And what seems plenty now won’t be in two, three years of this snow.”

Once again, I did not understand how the food would still be edible after three years of storage. I pushed that thought aside to track the thoughts of the family and determine whether they posed a threat to us.

Beth and Asha returned, apparently having avoided speaking to one another while caring for the horses. We all sat at a heavy wooden table for our meal; the innkeeper kept watch on us but did not join us or engage in conversation.

“Did you kill someone here?” Asha asked me, loud enough for the innkeeper to hear.

“I do not recall visiting this place,” I said. “I am very good at killing people, but I have not killed anyone along this road.”

“Then it’s not personal,” she said. “I suppose they’re simply uncouth.”

“You’re a judge of couth?” Beth finally spoke to Asha.

“Well, I was a queen,” she said. “If only briefly. And now you make me sleep on the floor.”

“If there is a second bed,” I said, “you may sleep in it.”

“Generous of you, Princess.”

There was indeed a second bed, and we allowed Asha to sleep there. Knowing my younger sister’s intense dislike for her, she pretended to wish to sleep alongside Beth. 

* * *

We encountered less overt hostility in the other inns where we stopped, though Asha Greyjoy continued to annoy Beth Cassel. Asha found it amusing and did not care that Beth genuinely wished to kill her, counting on me to prevent my sister from acting on her impulses. Their mutual hostility meant that I rarely had opportunity to ride alongside Lyra, which disappointed me.

No fresh snow fell before we reached Winterfell; Lyra said we had been very fortunate. The guards at the gates greeted us warmly; my killing of the dragons had erased much of their anger toward me over the deaths of Sansa and Arya Stark. We stabled our horses, and I sent Asha Greyjoy to arrange for baths for all of us in our chambers while my sisters and I sought out Davos Seaworth, the castellan of Winterfell. We found him the the castle’s solar surrounded by papers.

“Girls! No one told me you had arrived!”

“We told the guards that we knew the way,” I said.

“So you do. I merely wanted an excuse to be rid of all this. I should never have learned to read.”

He gestured for us to sit and gave us wine. I enjoyed seeing him again, but he seemed ill at ease.

“A delegation from House Manderly,” he said, “is on its way here to meet with you.”

“I had hoped so,” I said. “We left Deepwood before they confirmed their willingness to come here.”

“They asked for a secure cell in the dungeons that would be guarded by their soldiers and yours.”

“We brought but one soldier, but I would second the Manderlys’ request.”

“You know already,” the Onion Knight said, “that I’ll deny you nothing. But I’d ask who it is you plan to imprison in this castle I hold in trust.”

“You will speak of this to no one,” I said.

“No one.”

“A knight of House Frey. We will question him regarding the defenses of the Frey castle.”

“You plan to attack them?”

“We plan to kill them.”

“As you did aboard _Sweet Cersei_?”

“Aurane Waters threatened my sister. House Frey murdered the sister I never knew, and Tansy’s niece Arya Stark. I will carry out the will of my adoptive mother and kill them all.”

“They’re a barnacle on humanity’s . . . soul,” he almost said “ass” instead, “there’s no doubt. I’ll tell no one. You’ll find plenty of volunteers among the Winterfell Guard; I’ll not object if you choose to recruit them.”

He paused.

“You’ll dine with me tonight? You’ve not met my sons.”

“We would be honored,” I said.

“I’d hoped Lady Tansy might be with you.”

“She’s Hand to my mother,” Lyra said, “and remained to assist her with the final preparation for Winter. She sent her warmest regards.”

“I thank you,” Ser Davos said, “and please extend mine in return. And Lady Beth.”

Beth looked up with interest.

“We don’t know one another well,” the Onion Knight said. “I hope you and I can change that. I know you grew up in this castle. I’ve had workers, even the garrison, working hard on repairs to prepare for Winter. Your old chambers had burned, but not completely. They found a number of belongings that I believe are yours and your father’s. I’ve had most of them placed in the chambers you girls regularly occupy.”

Still uneasy speaking to men she did not know, Beth simply nodded.

“But one item I wanted to give you myself, in private.”

He turned behind him and brought what was obviously a sword wrapped in soft cloth to his desk.

“Mollen believes this was your father’s. It was in the armory, racked with all the others but obviously not belonging there.”

She stood and walked behind the desk; Davos stood as well and unwrapped the sword.

“It is,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

She grasped him in an embrace, which he returned awkwardly; though Beth was the shortest of us, she was still taller than the Onion Knight.

“I wield a Valyrian sword,” she said. “Gifted me by Dejah. But I’ll treasure this blade as a memory of my father, and take it to Bear Island if that meets your approval.”

“It’s yours to take where you will,” Ser Davos said. “The island is now your home?”

“My home is with my sisters,” Beth said. “They’ve given me back what I lost here at Winterfell.”

We left Ser Davos and returned to our chambers, where Asha had found servants to bring a large bathtub and hot water. When we entered, she had already disrobed and placed herself inside, lying back with her eyes closed.

“There’s room for one more,” she said, not opening her eyes.

“After I run her though,” Beth said, “the blood will foul the water.”

“You won’t kill me,” Asha said, her eyes still closed. She stretched to display her small, uneven breasts. “You still need me to sail your ship back to Bear Island.”

“I grew up here,” Beth said. “A Winter here wouldn’t be so bad. And we’d be rid of you.”

“You’ve got spirit. I like spirit. I might rather fuck you than I would the Princess. What say you? She’s too busy mooning over Lady Lyra to worry about us anyway.”

“I would rather fuck a pig.”

“That’s enough,” Lyra said. “Out of the water, then go get the maids to bring more.”

Asha considered a sharp reply, then decided she had done enough for the moment and did as Lyra commanded. As she left, Lyra pulled off her tunic, leggings and underclothing and slipped into the water.

“You two can have the fresh water,” she said. “Why don’t you see what we have to wear for dinner?”

I opened the doors of the small alcove known as a “wardrobe” and found my purple gown within, as well as the green gown Lyra had worn to the celebration after I killed the dragons. At least ten more gowns remained within, and surely one would fit Beth.

“I have one,” she said, showing me a gray gown with blue highlights within its folds. “Not sure it still fits me.”

She indicated several large wooden chests that had been stacked along one of the walls.

“Ser Davos must have sent these,” she said. “I can’t smell smoke on it. I’d like to wear it if I could.”

“I am no help,” I said. “And Lyra has never owned a gown.”

“I’ll tell you what to do,” she said. “Just don’t let the Iron Bitch touch me.”

Asha returned followed by several maids bearing empty buckets as well as others filled with hot water. They proceeded to empty the lukewarm bath water down the nearby privy, then fill the tub with fresh water.

“Pretty!” Asha said, fingering Beth’s gray gown. “You have one for me?”

“Take those fingers back,” Beth said, “or lose them.”

“You’ll wear your Mormont House Guard colors,” Lyra said, “and stand to outside the door.”

“Yes milady,” Asha answered, sarcastically.

“We are informal,” Lyra said, “but not free of discipline. You are a soldier of House Mormont, sworn to obey its lady and all of her daughters.”

“I was too free,” she admitted. “I will not mistake my place again.”

Beth and I disrobed and slid into the water; it felt very good on my skin. When we were clean, we dried ourselves and began to help one another into our gowns. Beth had much larger breasts than when she had last worn the gown, and had become somewhat taller and broader across the shoulders.

“Her tits are going to pop loose during the soup course,” Asha said. “Let me fix it.”

“You?” Beth asked; I did not need telepathy to know that she believed this another joke at her expense.

“I’m a sailor. All sailors have to sew.”

She took the needle and thread from Lyra and began to open a seam with a tiny cutting tool.

“Never worn one of these,” she said. “I couldn’t make any of this from scratch. But once you see where everything goes, it’s not difficult to alter it. And I get to touch her tits.”

“Watch your tongue,” Beth said. Asha stuck it out.

“I’m trying to help you. I could have remained silent, and let you give the Onion Knight’s family a real show.”

She continued to work silently.

“Serious question,” Asha asked. “How much tit do you want to show?”

“Less than Dejah,” Beth said. “But I’m not ashamed of them.”

Soon Beth had a neckline that showed cleavage, but covered her nipples.

“Keep it high in the back?”

“Don’t even think of lowering the back,” Beth snapped.

Asha held up her hands in a mock defensive posture, then poked her in the side.

“It’s tight here too. Should I let it out?”

“I’m fine.”

“Let me see you walk.”

Beth walked across the room.

“Sway your hips. Just a little.”

The gown’s skirts swished as Beth walked. Asha squatted to check their length.

“It’s a little shorter than probably intended,” she said. “But I’ve no notion of what to do about it. Other than that I think we’re ship-shape. You can thank me later.” 

* * *

We set out for Ser Davos’ private dining room, Asha leading the way. My sisters looked beautiful and so did I; I loved my purple gown. In front of others our sworn sword’s behavior was entirely unobjectionable, holding the door for us and taking her guard position outside without comment.

The Seaworth family took very warmly to Beth Cassel, and it amused me to detect Devan Seaworth developing a distinct attraction to my former apprentice. I felt very much a princess in my purple gown; this was as close as I could come at a social occasion in these lands to appearing naked like a civilized person.

Ser Davos’ older son Devan was eager to hear about the killing of the dragons while his wife was almost tearfully happy that I had survived mostly unhurt. I remained uncomfortable taking credit for a victory that had cost the lives of Samwell Tarly and Howland Reed.

Soon I had a distraction: the Winterfell cooks had prepared a series of fine dishes: meat pies, and a large roasted fish among other meats, plus potatoes and some green vegetables I did not know.

“I know you like good plain food,” Marya Seaworth said. “I made sure we would have plenty of it for you.”

Plain food? These people prepared far more complicated dishes than we of Barsoom; I had thought the meal spread before me a very fine feast of the first order.

At every formal or somewhat formal occasion in which I had participated since arriving on this planet, I had relied on Tansy’s silent instruction to guide me to proper Westerosi etiquette. I had neglected to inform Lyra or Beth of my needs. After the servant laid Ser Davos’ traditional onion soup before me, I placed my hand on Beth’s knee where no one else could see and gently squeezed. I picked up what I believed to be the proper spoon and looked at her.

Misunderstanding, she reached to her knee and pulled my hand farther up her thigh, squeezed it herself and smiled. I looked into her mind, where she imagined kissing me, both of us standing and unclothed. As I willed her to look at the spoon she added details: firelight, the engagement of our tongues.

It was a welcome image, but not the image I sought. I dropped my spoon between us and allowed Beth to bend over first, then did so as well. I had used this trick before and once again, our dinner companions merely thought me clumsy.

“I must have guidance in using eating instruments,” I whispered into her hair. I could see the tops of her breasts flush red around her freckles, and knew it must have spread to her face.

“I can’t seem to find your dessert spoon,” she said aloud, placing her foot over the spoon. “Fortunately you didn’t drop your soup spoon.”

 _Outside in_ , she thought very hard. _Start at the outside, work your way in. Sip the soup from the side, not the end, and make no sound._

“Thank you for looking,” I said aloud, as I picked up the proper spoon and sipped my soup.

“Princess,” Devan Seaworth began, “would it be too forward to ask you to tell of the fight with the dragons? I wish I had seen it. They will sing of that battle for hundreds of years.”

“You have seen battle, with Stannis?”

“King Stannis,” he said reflexively. “Your pardon, it’s a habit.”

I nodded.

“I was with him at the Blackwater,” he continued, “but I stayed with Lady Melisandre at the Wall when the king marched south.”

He had loved Melisandre.

“You are aware that I killed her.”

“Only later. By the time I heard what she had tried to do to you, I had a better idea of what she was. She was beautiful and seductive and clouded my mind.”

“Mine as well.”

He imagined Melisandre and I kissing, both of us unclothed, and blushed. His fantasy was far more chaste than the reality had been.

“But to answer your question, I’ve seen battle.”

“Then you know what it is to lose friends by your side.”

“Yes.”

“I am glad that I killed the dragons,” I said, “but I lost two very good friends and I still grieve.”

“I’m sorry. It all seems so exciting when you weren’t there. It’s easy to forget it’s not all glory. Even so, I wish I could see battle with you.”

He hoped I would take him as my squire. That would also put him close to Beth Cassel; he had noticed her breasts pressing out of her gown and hoped to see more of them. Davos did not want me to take him from Winterfell. Neither did I.

“We do not have squires in my land, or knights for that matter. I could not train you to become one. But I will promise you this. When spring returns, you may come to Bear Island and I will train you to fight in the style of my city.”

He was disappointed.

“Your father saw me fight Lyn Corbray.”

“It was over in ten seconds,” the Onion Knight said. “Princess Dejah is the finest sword in Westeros, and so far has only trained House Mormont’s Guard. She’s offered you a unique opportunity.”

That satisfied Devan Seaworth’s desire to hone his skills, but thwarted his desire to seduce my sister.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll look forward to it.”

“Even so,” Marya Seaworth interjected to change the subject. “I’m glad all three of you made it here, whatever your errand.”

“You grew up far to the South,” Lyra said. “How have you adjusted to Northern weather?”

“I’ve heard stories, but the snows have been manageable so far.”

“And the people?”

“Oh, they’re different. But Winterfell lost most of its people during the, the troubles. The ones here now come from all over, and we’ve had to bind ourselves together. We try to be accepting of all people, all faiths, all ways. With so many dead, the North can’t afford to be too choosy. We need all the good people we can find.”

“Do you like it here?”

“I never thought I would, but I do. It’s become our home.”

“You had an estate in the South?” I asked.

“We did,” Marya said. “I suppose it’s gone to ruin now.”

“You cannot sell it?” I asked.

“That’s not done here,” Davos Seaworth explained. “Lands and the buildings on them, be they farms or castles, are the property of the great houses. The lord grants them to his subjects, who hold them in his name. They often act like they own them, but that’s not really true. Our keep has likely reverted to the lord of the Stormlands.”

“Who is that?”

“There is none. Stannis granted me the keep, but you saw him take his own life. He murdered his own heir. His brother Renly was already dead at Stannis’ hand.”

He paused and thought for a moment.

“I suppose your friend Gendry has the best claim.”

I hoped Gendry would not wish to play the game of thrones. I enjoyed his company, and I hoped he would remain on Bear Island and make Jeyne happy. 

* * *

Asha led the way back to our chambers, and Beth squeezed alongside me as best she could with the thick skirts of our gowns pushing against one another.

“Dejah,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. I thought you wanted . . . you know.”

“I should have warned you,” I whispered back. “But you have good ideas.”

Back in our chambers, we removed our gowns and the underclothes that went with them. Asha sat in a chair and silently watched us. I poked Beth with my elbow and nodded to our sworn sword.

“Thank you, Asha,” Beth said. “It was very kind of you to help me.”

“It was my pleasure,” she said, but decided not to add a sarcastic remark.

Asha slept before the fire on the wide, comfortable seat, while the three of us piled into the bed frame, still filled with furs in the fashion of Barsoom. We had had a very long day and I slept very soundly, awakened only when Asha arose and stoked the fire. While my sisters’ movements did not alert my telepathic senses, I did not trust the former Iron Queen and came alert whenever she awakened.

In the morning, we dressed in our spare sets of Mormont blacks – Winterfell’s servants had taken those in which we travelled to be cleaned. We exercised in the snowy courtyard, including Asha, and sparred afterwards. We took then First Meal in the Great Hall.

The Manderlys arrived late in the afternoon; Ser Wylis had remained in White Harbor, and sent his cousin Ser Marlon, an older man who commanded their House Guard. Far less fat than Ser Wylis, he had brought twenty soldiers along with the prisoner. He asked to speak with me as soon as he arrived, and I invited him to walk along the walls so we could have privacy.

“I’ve brought you Ser Stupid,” he said, cutting directly to his point. “Do I guess correctly that you wish knowledge of the Twins?”

“You do,” I said. “Do many know this?”

“No,” he said. “Lord Wyman put it about that ransom was in the offing. The idiot thinks he’s going home.”

“Your lord is wise.”

“He is. Fat, but wise.”

“In what condition is the prisoner?”

“He’s a big man who’s been fed little. He should be very hungry, have seen little sleep and has not known a woman for perhaps a year or more.”

“Thank you. I could not have asked for better preparation.”

“Might I ask a favor?”

“You may ask. I offer no promise.”

“Understood,” he said. “Princess, Wylis would not say much of you, other than to recite your prowess on the battlefield. If I might venture a second guess, do you intend to strike at House Frey?”

“I do not intend to strike at them. I intend to kill them.”

“For Lady Dacey?”

“Yes.”

He dropped to one knee.

“Princess, in this venture my sword is yours. I beg your leave to ride with you against House Frey.”

“They murdered people close to you?”

“Aye. I have Lord Wyman’s leave. At least three hundred of our Guard would gladly follow, both knights and men-at-arms.”

I thought on this. Five hundred men from Houses Glover and Manderly; I could not use them in a secret assault over the walls but the offers gave me additional options to consider.

“Say nothing to anyone outside of your lord and his son. Our plans are not yet complete, and I do not know if we require more men. But I understand the need, for you and your House. I will do my best to include you at least, so that your sword may drink of Frey blood on behalf of your House.”

He took my hand and kissed it.

“What would you have me do?”

“Carefully determine how many men are willing. Send a raven with only the number. I will summon you when we are ready.”

I paused, and pulled him to his feet by the hand he still held.

“You are an older man. We may have to climb the walls.”

“I can climb a rope. But I would stab at the Freys from a cripple’s wheeled chair were it the only way to kill them. I’ll tend to your horses, clean your armor, whatever speeds the death of Walder Frey.”

“You are good with a sword?”

“I fancy myself skilled.”

“You are willing to kill, to slaughter?”

“I am.”

“It is the will of my adoptive mother, Maege Mormont, that no Frey survive. No woman, no child. You have taken oaths of chivalry.”

“Trumped by my oaths of vengeance. Ser Wylis said you were a hard woman. I expected no less.”

“We should begin the questioning while our prisoner still believes himself on his way home.”

Ser Marlon kissed my hand again, and we walked back to the Great Hall. His thoughts said that he respected me as a warrior and a hard woman; while I was glad of the respect I did not wish to be thought of in those terms. I would have to be harder still in the coming hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next episode, Dejah Thoris questions Ser Stupid.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris refuses to share her roasted chicken.

Chapter Five

Ser Davos provided the room where we had interviewed the Brotherhood some months previously, and the kitchens provided a large platter of roasted chicken and four round metal serving platters known as plates. My sisters and I wore our tight black tunics without surcoats so that Ser Hosteen could see the outlines of our breasts; I wished that I had brought the black outfit Pia had made for me. Clad in her full House Mormont uniform including ringed armor, Asha Greyjoy stood behind the prisoner after two Manderly soldiers deposited him in the chair opposite us, his hands and feet shackled.

“Good day, Ser Hosteen,” I began. “Do you know why you are here?”

“Lord Walder ransomed me,” he said. “I suppose you’re here to oversee the exchange, whoever you are.”

“I am afraid not,” I said. “I am Dejah Thoris, adoptive daughter of House Mormont. With me are my sisters Beth Cassel, also an adoptive daughter of our house, and Lyra Mormont, a true-born daughter. Behind you is Asha Greyjoy, a soldier of House Mormont.”

“The Iron Bitch,” he said. “Now serves the Queenslayer. Even in the dungeons, we hear tales, but none that strange.”

“As you can see, it is quite true. Can you guess why we asked to meet you?”

“Not to ransom me?”

“Not to ransom you.”

“To kill me?”

“Now why,” I asked, stretching languidly, “would we do such a barbaric thing?”

My sisters stared at Ser Hosteen.

“I . . . I don’t know.” He stammered, becoming aroused and then quickly feeling shame at his arousal.

“Do you believe that House Mormont has a quarrel with House Frey?”

“No. I mean, yes. We killed Mormonts. You followed Robb Stark, and he insulted our House.”

“Did you kill any Mormonts yourself?”

“No. At least I don’t think so.”

He spoke the truth.

“Did you see any killed?”

“No. I mean, yes. The tall She-Bear. Took an axe to the gut she did. Oh gods, she looked just like these two. They’re her sisters.”

Fear shot through him. Curiously, he had seen my sister Dacey wounded but was not actually sure that she had died of it.

“As am I. What happened to Dacey Mormont?”

“The She-Bear? I never knew her name. It was Ryman. She fought like a demon with whatever came to hand, but Ryman came through the doors and swung his axe before she could react.”

“You saw her die?”

“She bled like a pig. She had to have died.”

“What did you do after the Red Wedding?”

“I led troops North. Lord Walder told me to keep an eye on Roose Bolton, said he’d betrayed one lord and might betray another.”

I tore a leg off a chicken, and held it up as though I had never seen such a thing. I placed it under my nose, slowly licked it, and then took a small bite. The sight of my long, blue tongue disturbed Ser Hosteen.

“Ser Hosteen,” I said, slowly. “People die in war. That is why it is called war. You have told me the truth so far. I hope we can be friends.”

“What do you want?”

I finished the chicken leg, and dropped the bone on the platter before me with a metallic clang. I pulled off another piece.

“This is really quite good,” I said. “You should try some. Forgive me. I forgot that you cannot do so. Not yet, anyway.”

“Do these other two ever speak?”

“You would not like what they have to say. But if we remain friends, then they will not get to have their way with you. You do not want them to have their way with you.”

He believed Beth to be one of the other Mormont birth-daughters – he did not know any of their names and had failed to notice that I had specifically named her as adopted – and he feared that Beth and Lyra would torture and kill him. Their intent stares continued to un-nerve him.

“I will ask you questions. You will answer them. If you answer them fully and truthfully, I will give you chicken. If you fail to do so, you will watch us eat chicken without you.”

I paused as if thinking.

“Asha, would you please ask the servants to bring us some wine. Three goblets, please. You are on duty and Ser Hosteen has not yet earned any.”

“This is torture.”

I stretched again, hooking my elbow over the back of the chair.

“Ser Hosteen, speak truly. Have we harmed you in the slightest?”

“You are an insane red vixen.”

“You are not the first to name me thusly. But come now, let us be friends. You have not had the opportunity to earn your chicken and wine.”

Asha entered alone, bearing a platter with three goblets and a flagon which she placed next to Lyra, who handed goblets to Beth and to me. I drank some; it was actually quite good. I sent Asha to stand to outside the door; like other inhabitants of Mormont Keep she knew that I could tell truth from falsehood but she did not need to know the full extent of my capabilities.

For the remainder of the afternoon, I questioned Hosteen Frey and filled in more details of my map of the Twins. We learned of guard rotations, barracks locations, and the usual state of readiness and training – or at least their status before he left the castle. When he cooperated, as I had promised I gave him chicken. When he cursed us or lied, I denied this to him and forced him to watch us eat the food. 

* * *

As we completed our morning exercises, Ser Davos approached me along with Hallis Mollen and a soldier named Quent who served as Mollen’s second-in-command.

“Princess,” the Onion Knight said, “a word, if we might.”

I nodded to my sisters and Asha to go on ahead.

“Your guard,” Quent said when they were out of hearing range. “They say she’s the Iron Bitch herself.”

“She is Asha Greyjoy,” I said. “Her sword is sworn to House Mormont. I killed her brother Theon, who sacked this castle, and took her prisoner. She was given the choice to swear or die, and chose to swear.”

“Bringing her here,” Mollen said, “it tests some of my men sorely.”

“Then invoke discipline,” I said. “You are soldiers, and you command soldiers. Soldiers obey. House Mormont is a Northern house, and its lady part of the Council and therefore your liege.”

“Princess, I watched you kill a dragon,” Quent said. “I’m your man until I die. I’d not be honest, did I not tell you what you’ve brought into our midst.”

“I take orders from Maege Mormont and no other,” I said. “Asha Greyjoy is under my personal supervision and that of my sisters. She has done nothing to break her oaths.

“I promise you, I will be responsible for her. But I have seen the bruises on her, and a blackened eye. I would take the insult personally, should I learn that soldiers of Winterfell have assaulted a soldier of House Mormont. And I am sure that your soldiers do not wish to deal with me should I feel personally insulted. As I am responsible for my soldier, I expect you both to be responsible for yours.”

“That’s fair enough,” Ser Davos said. “I take it there’s no objection?”

“None, ser,” Mollen said. “You killed Theon Turncloak, Princess?”

“You know what he did to my sister, Beth Cassel.”

“I do.”

“Then you know why I killed him.”

“I do.”

“If she can bear the presence of Asha Greyjoy, then so can you.”

“Aye,” Mollen said. “Yet one death, it doesn’t seem enough.”

“I told my sister the same. Killing Theon Greyjoy’s sister does not kill him again.”

“I suppose not,” Mollen said. “We’ll keep our men in line. I apologize for . . . this.”

He bowed, as did Quent, and they left us. 

* * *

We resumed questioning Ser Hosteen after First Meal, once again offering him food. He had eaten enough on the previous day to take the edge off his hunger and he now became surly.

“You’re just going to kill me,” he said. “Why should I help you rob my family?”

He had decided that we sought House Frey’s riches. I had not considered their treasury; they apparently had piled up a great deal of wealth from the tolls charged for crossing their bridge. From my study of maps of Westeros I could not understand why a crossing of the river Green Fork would be so desirous, but Robb Stark had foolishly thrown away both his crown and his life to obtain free passage so there must have been a reason I had not yet discerned.

“Ser Hosteen,” I said, “you are most unfair. Surely you do not believe three innocent maidens capable of murder.”

“Maidens, she says,” he scoffed. “And everyone knows what you’re capable of. You murdered Black Walder.”

“He stabbed me in the back,” I said. “So I stabbed him in the front. It seemed only fair. He was not my friend. I have greater hopes for you.”

“You hope to see me dead.”

Asha Greyjoy stood behind him as she had the previous day; I had not yet sent her outside.

“You have noted that Asha Greyjoy serves my House. She swore an oath and serves honorably. Who is to say that you could not do the same? The best fighters of our House are women. Obviously we have a need for a man who can fight.”

He scoffed again, but the idea intrigued him.

“And we would pay well. Assuming, that is, we obtain the coin we seek.”

“I won’t help you steal from my family.”

“The family that left you to rot in White Harbor? The family that made no effort to ransom you?”

“You don’t know that.”

“Actually, I do,” I lied. “But I would only need simple logic. You are a smart man, Ser Hosteen. Your family is wealthy. The North is poor, and none of its houses grub for coin like House Manderly. Is this not true?”

“I am Lord Walder’s true-born son!”

“Among how many others?” I asked. “I truly do not know, only that it is a great number. The Manderlys would not have turned away gold; surely they asked for it. They accepted ours readily. House Frey has an abundance of gold, far more than House Mormont. That you sit before us instead of Lord Walder proves that your family abandoned you. Surely an intelligent man such as yourself worked that out long ago.”

Men of both my planet and this one will do much for a beautiful woman. But that is as nothing next to what they will do when flattered by a beautiful woman. Even an intelligent man will act the fool for a well-made face or generously-curved breast; my sisters and I had both of these, while Ser Hosteen had well-earned his sobriquet of “Ser Stupid.”

“What would I gain were I to aid you?”

“What do you wish?”

“Enough coin to cross the Narrow Sea, set myself up in luxury, and never smell this land again.”

He imagined himself served by many lovely women, several of whom resembled my sisters and I. He wore silk robes and reclined on a couch while bare-breasted women poured wine into his mouth. Ser Stupid possessed a more vivid imagination than I would have credited.

I continued to question him, and though he cooperated for the most part I soon ran into the limitations of his knowledge and intelligence. I learned that the Freys rarely used challenges and passwords, simply opening the gates to interrogate anyone wishing to cross their bridge. I added the House treasury to our map, landing docks for boats and hidden sally ports where troops could enter and exit during a siege. When it seemed I could learn no more, I had Asha Greyjoy and a Manderly soldier return him to his cell.

“Are we done with him?” Lyra asked. “I’ve not participated in such questionings often, but it seems they usually take much longer.”

“When the subject’s thoughts are open,” I said, “it moves quickly. If the Freys have surprises in store, they did not entrust these secrets to Ser Hosteen.”

“Are we going to kill him?” Beth asked.

“Do you wish to?”

“Dacey was my cousin,” Beth said, “but we were not of an age; I played with Lyra and Jory as a child but Dacey was always sparring or hunting with the men. I’m not the one to ask.”

“It is up to you,” I told Lyra. “I will kill him myself if you wish him dead by another’s hand.”

“You heard him,” my sister said. “He participated in the Red Wedding. He murdered guests there, if not Mormonts, then others of the North. Hang him in the open, in Winterfell’s courtyard.”

“I will speak with Ser Davos,” I said. “And arrange for Ser Hosteen to die.” 

* * *

Ser Davos agreed to execute Ser Hosteen; I felt somewhat ashamed, knowing that he did so only because he would deny me nothing. Mollen and Quent worked through the night with their soldiers to erect an execution platform known as a gallows, and when the sun rose Asha Greyjoy escorted Ser Hosteen into the courtyard. My sisters and I awaited him along with Ser Marlon and Ser Davos.

“This isn’t what we agreed,” Ser Hosteen said, his face reddening as he spotted the gallows and panicked. “You said I could have money. You said I could go to Essos.”

“I said no such thing,” I replied. “You stated those as your desires.”

“I told you everything I knew!”

“And you have the sincere thanks of House Mormont.”

He looked at Davos and Marlon.

“Don’t let the red bitch do this! She’s going to rob my House, steal its wealth!”

“That is not true,” I said. “I will exterminate your House. House Frey will cease to exist, and you have done much to bring about its destruction.”

Hosteen was a large man, and even in his weakened state his struggles gave Asha Greyjoy considerable difficulties. She could keep him in place, but could not urge him up the steps of the newly-built gallows. Quent strode over to help her, and together they dragged him onto the platform.

Ser Hosteen went limp, but Quent held him upright by his shackled arms, pinned behind the Frey knight.

“Do the honors,” he grunted to Asha Greyjoy. “Fit the noose on him. It’s rigged for a short drop.”

The gallows had an opening in its center where the victim would be pushed to his death. With the noose around his neck and his arms and legs secured by chains, Ser Hosteen balanced perilously on the edge. Asha Greyjoy stepped behind him.

“Ser Hosteen Frey,” she said loudly. We had not rehearsed nor spoken of this moment. “In the name of my liege, Lady Maege Mormont, I sentence you to death for the murder of Lady Dacey Mormont as well as many others.”

Ser Hosteen wept.

“I didn’t kill the bitch!” he screamed, tears streaming down his red face. “It was Ryman! Ryman killed her!”

Asha Greyjoy looked at me; I nodded and she kicked him in the ass. He plunged forward and his screaming abruptly gave way to gagging sounds. He had not fallen far enough to snap his neck, and his legs kicked wildly as he strangled.

I saw Quent nod to Asha Greyjoy, and speak a few quiet words. I spied on their thoughts, and saw that he made a rough apology for her treatment by his men. She extended her hand and they briefly clasped forearms.

Next to me, my sister Lyra looked on silently.

“Are you well?” I asked quietly.

“I know it should make me feel better. It doesn’t.”

I saw tears form in my sister’s eyes, and pulled her into my arms. Ser Davos and Ser Marlon stepped away gracefully. I thought of many things to say but none seemed to fit the moment.

“I love you,” she said. “Don’t leave me, like she did.”

“I will never leave you,” I said.

“Me either,” Beth added, stroking Lyra’s arm. “We belong together.” 

* * *

Our departure stirred deep emotion in Ser Davos, who feared he would never see me again. He expected Winter to last for years, possibly longer than he had yet to live. He tried not to show his feelings, but clasped me tightly and held his eyes closed in hopes that he would not weep.

“I will return,” I said. “Snow and storm will not keep me away.”

“I’d not have you put yourself in danger, just to comfort an old man.”

“You were young enough to admire my ass as I climbed aboard the ship named _Sweet Cersei_ ,” I answered, causing his eyes to widen. “I fought two dragons and the king of the dead. A little frozen mist will not deter me.”

I looked back as I mounted my horse, a Winterfell animal provided by Ser Davos.

“Practice with your sword. I shall test you upon my return.”

We headed out under a clear morning sky, deep blue and free of clouds. That should have been a warning.

My sisters rode in front, and I rode alongside Asha Greyjoy behind them.

“You get what you wanted?” she asked me.

“I believe so,” I said. “You did well.”

“What, acted as your guard? That wasn’t hard. And to think, riding in with you three and I’m the one who came away satisfied.”

She had had sex with Quent just before dawn.

“I’m not a bad-looking woman, you know,” she went on. “You’re too lovely even for their fantasies. They think they might, just might, have a chance with one of those two up ahead. But probably not. And then they see me.”

I did feature in many male sexual fantasies, and a few female ones as well including hers, but I could not share this without revealing the full extent of my telepathic abilities.

“You do not mind being the . . . alternative?”

“I got over that long ago. I like fucking. I like fucking men, I like fucking women. You seem like you don’t.”

“I do,” I protested. “Just not very often.”

“I was a princess once,” she said. “Different sort than you, I’d wager. I learned to fight and to sail. My father had to know I’d learn to fuck, too, but didn’t seem to care.”

“My father sent me to serve on a warship,” I said. “He knew that I would have sex, but I was expected not to embarrass the royal family in so doing.”

“And did you? Embarrass the family?”

“No. Only because I was never found out.”

She laughed.

“I can’t imagine you on a warship.”

“Ours are much larger and more stable than yours,” I said; in truth they float on air. “I tended the weapons and did not have to look outside. I only puked rarely.”

“I don’t think a princess is supposed to say, ‘puke’.”

“That was left out of my training.”

“I wish I’d met you before all this happened,” she said. “I could learn to like you, Dejah Thoris.” 

* * *

By the third day we had penetrated deep into the forest known as the Wolfswood, moving at a walk as we did not wish injury to our horses in the snow. As before, we saw little evidence that anyone else had passed along the road. Late in the morning, the skies swiftly darkened and wind picked up, driving snow before it. It grew steadily stronger, and I pulled my fur cloak more closely around my body and pulled up the wrapping known as a “scarf” to cover my face. I moved my horse closer to Beth’s, riding beside me, and tried to close the gap between us and where Lyra and Asha Greyjoy rode ahead of us.

The horses grew alarmed, and I did my best to comfort them. The wind came from the north-west, and though we rode west the horses greatly disliked the feel of it on their faces and steadily slowed their pace. I tried to coax them forward telepathically but they wished to leave the road in the direction the wind pushed them, and it took all of my persuasive powers to keep them out of the forest.

As the wind grew in strength and visibility dropped, I dismounted and shouted to Beth to do the same. I gave her my reins to hold along with those of her horse, and trudged forward to where Lyra and Asha Greyjoy had likewise taken to their own feet. Already I could not have seen them from where Beth stood and I had to track them telepathically.

“The horses will not move,” I shouted to Lyra. “They are terrified of the wind.”

“We must find shelter,” she shouted back, “or we’ll die here.”

“Remain here,” I said. “I will get Beth.”

I returned to my younger sister, and together we coaxed the horses forward to join the other two.

“Hobble the horses,” Lyra shouted. “And tie them in the trees. They’ll break their legs if they wander into the forest.”

She repeated her instructions to Asha Greyjoy, while I did the same for Beth. My fingers did not wish to move, and I had to warm them under my arms several times before I had my horse secured. I helped Beth do the same, and then Asha Greyjoy. Lyra had been caught in snowstorms before, but her thoughts indicated that she had never experienced one this fierce. Asha Greyjoy’s thoughts revealed a growing terror, as did Beth’s.

The wind and snow suddenly grew less, and I wondered if we should re-mount.

“No,” Lyra said. “It’s a lull. The really fierce storms do this. It’ll be back even harder very soon.”

“She’s right,” Asha said, her sarcasm gone. “It’s this way at sea as well. We won’t have long.”

“We were hours from the next inn,” Lyra said. “We have to dig a snow cave. Take everything useful from your saddles and saddlebags, every bit of food. We could be here for some time.”

“Saddle blankets, too?” Beth asked. “And our armor?”

Lyra regarded the horses. Her thoughts showed her weighing the likelihood of the horses surviving the storm, and deciding that the blankets would make little difference.

“Take the blankets,” she said. “Pile the saddles and armor under that tree, so we can find them later.”

After taking off our horses’ saddles and saddle blankets, we marched forward along the road for a short distance, until Lyra spotted a deep snowbank piled against what appeared to be a hill. She showed us how to dig into the snow, with an entrance tunnel facing away from the wind so it would not be quickly covered by blown snow.

“We have to take turns,” she said. “You break a sweat in weather like this, it can chill you and kill you.”

“I do not sweat,” I said. “Let me do this.”

“All right,” she said. “First, we’ll shove the snow down from the top of this slope, and pack it down as hard as we can. Then you’ll need to dig a tunnel into it, and hollow out a cave large enough for all four of us.”

The storm returned before we had finished packing down the snow, and once Lyra decided we had enough I began to dig into it. Lyra crawled inside several times to check my progress by feel – though it was only early afternoon, not enough light made it through the snow from the darkened sky to see very well – and eventually I had carved a dome in the snow.

By the time I crawled out of the tunnel, I saw by their thoughts that both Beth and Asha had become chilled; they moved slowly and Asha only barely reacted when addressed.

“Cold sickness,” Lyra said. “We have to warm them.”

“Give me the rain gear and saddle blankets,” I said. I crawled into the cave, and shoved the snow into a sleeping platform raised above the floor. I used the coated canvas to lay down a dry layer on the platform with the saddle blankets over it. They reeked of horse but we could not be delicate in this situation.

Asha could barely move by the time I guided her into the dome; Beth was little better but still answered questions with single-word answers. We all stripped naked and covered ourselves with all of the furs we had as well as all of our clothing; we put our skin bags of water under the furs as well to keep them from freezing. I wrapped my arms around Beth and held her close, while we nestled Asha against my back with Lyra on the other side of her. I generated far more body heat than any of my sisters, a feature of my physiology.

I kissed Beth gently on the forehead and stroked her face; she looked into my eyes and smiled, but did not speak. Her thoughts indicated confusion; she believed that she and I were in our bed in Mormont Keep, having made love moments before. Asha’s thoughts bore even less relation to reality; she considered the near-darkness to be the depths of the sea and herself a fish swimming in it.

Lyra remained awake and alert, though uncomfortable.

“You have done this before?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “More than once, trapped while out hunting with Dacey, and with Aly. Every Northerner carries a snow kit with them; there’s one in each of our saddlebags, I made sure they were there and Mollen asked again before we left Winterfell. We have candles, a little dry wood, dried meat, dried fruit and hard cheese.”

All of them, I understood, high-energy foods that would take up comparatively little space.

“That is why we all had waterproof cloaks,” I also realized.

“For just this purpose,” Lyra agreed. “If my body heat would melt the snow, the gods alone know what yours would do to it.”

“I would not have known what to do without you.”

“I have my uses,” she said. “How are the horses?”

“Dying,” I answered. “I should go finish them, to end their suffering.”

“We need you here,” Lyra said. “Asha needs your warmth. Beth probably does too. And you’re the only one who can find the horses and then us again by following our thoughts. How is Beth?”

“She sleeps, but dreams somewhat normally. Normally for her, I should say.”

“How does she feel?”

She lay on her right side, facing me. I ran my hand over her upper arm, flank, ass and thigh, and placed it between her breasts. Had I not been deeply worried for her, I would have enjoyed touching her there very much.

“Her breasts and chest are warm, her arms less so. Her ass and thigh are cold to the touch. Her fingers and toes appear undamaged.”

“That’s actually good,” Lyra said. “The danger was to her heart. Keep her center warm and the rest will follow.”

“Her heartbeat seems strong. How is Asha?”

“Not as good,” Lyra said. “She’s warm in the chest, cold in the limbs, but her heart seems to beat unevenly.”

“What is the next step?”

“Warm them, then give them food. Ideally something hot, but that’s not going to happen before the storm abates.”

Outside, the wind continued to howl. Eventually I roused myself, pulled on my leggings, tunic, cloak and gloves, and cleared the snow from the mouth of our access tunnel. The sky seemed even darker, and I supposed that night had begun to fall.

I returned to our dome, and at Lyra’s direction dug what she called a “cold sink” in the floor, where colder air would collect and make that within the chamber feel warmer. It soon became too dark to see my work, and as I did not wish to blunder through the walls of our shelter I returned to the sleeping furs.

Asha Greyjoy’s thought patterns seemed more normal, as did Beth’s. I told Lyra to move to the center to obtain some warmth herself. She felt very cold as I wrapped my arms around her.

“You must care for yourself as well,” I said, kissing her forehead as I had Beth’s. “I cannot lose you.”

“When will you need food?”

“Soon.”

“Don’t short yourself. We need your body heat.”

She tucked her arms between us; they felt very cold against my breasts and I worried for her.

“When will the wind stop?”

“There’s no way to tell. Could be hours, could be days.”

“We can build a fire when it does?” I asked.

“We have the dry kindling, but dry wood will be a problem.”

“We have Valyrian steel,” I said. “I can slice the wet outer layers off dead trees fairly easily.”

“We’ll need more food.”

“There is more frozen horsemeat out there than even I could possibly eat.”

“They’re dead?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “It was not pleasant.”

I awoke to total darkness and great hunger. I first checked on my companions. Both of my sisters slept; Lyra felt warm in her limbs as did Beth. Asha remained chilled in her legs but her chest seemed warm and her thoughts indicated normal sleep. I felt for the saddlebag near my head and as Lyra had directed I ate several handfuls of dried apples, dried meat and hard cheese. I drank water and felt much better.

I considered re-ordering our positions to bring more warmth to Asha, but she seemed to be improving and I did not want to disturb any of the sleeping women. In the morning I would ask Lyra more about our next steps; for the moment the wind continued to howl. I could feel cold air coming through our entrance tunnel so it had not yet been totally blocked. I pulled Lyra close and returned to sleep. 

* * *

Asha’s stirring thoughts awakened me some time later. The sun had risen, and the wind seemed less. I lay on my back with Lyra sprawled across me as Tansy often did; I enjoyed the warmth of her full breasts pressed against mine, and realized that all of her felt warm. She had slept with her hair still braided, as had I despite the discomfort; our fingers had been too stiff to free our hair. Asha opened her eyes and looked under the furs at us.

“Sometimes our dreams do come true,” she said. “At least yours do.”

“I should have left you to freeze,” I answered. “Do not forget that your ass contains a considerable store of meat.”

“What is dead can never die.”

“Perhaps,” I said, recognizing the phrase as a mantra of her religion. “But it can be eaten.”

“Speaking of wishing me dead, how’s your other sister?”

Reluctantly, I slid myself out from under Lyra and reached over her to touch Beth. She was warm all the way down, her thoughts clear though still sleeping.

“I believe she is well, also.”

My sisters both began to rouse.

“How do you feel?” I asked Asha.

“Sore enough to know I’m alive.”

Lyra and Beth had come fully awake.

“Before anything,” Asha said, “I have to thank you all for saving my life. That’s two lives I owe you now.”

“We would never abandon a soldier of House Mormont,” Lyra said. “And I have to piss.”

She put on her leggings, tunic and several more layers of wool and fur than I had worn, and crawled through the access tunnel, pulling her fur cloak behind her. The snow had piled in the entrance but she thrust her arm into it and reported that she could feel her fingers in the open air on the other side. Soon she broke through and headed out.

“My turn,” Beth said when Lyra returned.

“Is it storming?” I asked Lyra.

“The wind has died down,” she said. “But the snow’s still falling.”

Beth returned, and Asha left. I remained; we of Barsoom cycle food and water far more slowly than these people.

“It could fall for a very long time,” Lyra said. “I think we need to move on.”

“We’re about a half-day’s ride from the last inn or the next,” Beth said. “I don’t remember either of them as likely to have fresh horses.”

Asha returned.

“We’re moving out?” she asked.

“I think so,” Lyra said. “But I’m unsure which way is better.”

“Either way,” I said, “we should return to the horses and obtain some of their meat.”

“Agreed,” Lyra said. “Forward or back?”

“Forward,” Asha said. “It was, what, two more days to Deepwood, three days back to Winterfell, unfriendly innkeepers either way?”

“On horseback,” Lyra said. “Triple that on foot, easily.”

“We will have to walk to Deepwood Motte?” I asked. “Can Beth and Asha Greyjoy do so?”

“Of course I can,” Beth said, doubting her own words.

“You will not have to,” I said. “We will march to the inn, and you three will remain there. I will go to Deepwood Motte and return with a sledge to collect you.”

Lyra looked very thoughtful.

“These are not your lands,” she said. “Even with your abilities and strength, you could die out there alone.”

She looked at Beth and Asha.

“Can I trust the two of you by yourselves, or do I have to watch over you like small children?”

“I will keep my words to myself,” Asha Greyjoy said, “and obey all lawful orders given by a daughter of House Mormont, true-born or adopted.”

Beth looked sullen.

“Her brother is dead,” Lyra finally said. “Asha wasn’t present when Theon committed his crimes.”

“I could go with you.”

“Beth,” Lyra said gently, “you’re my cousin, and now my sister. I love you too much to let you risk your life foolishly. Dejah has to go, because of her strength. I have to go, because she doesn’t know the North.”

“I have survived in snow and cold worse than these,” I said, recalling my adventures among the Okar people of Barsoom’s North Polar Region.

“Then you know,” Lyra answered, “what can happen to someone alone in a wilderness.”

“If Cassel won’t admit it,” Asha Greyjoy spoke up, “I will. This is far colder than when I was with Stannis and your sister, and men were dying all around us then. I don’t know that I can survive days and days of it. I still feel weak in the arms and legs, and that’s before I try walking all day.”

Her thoughts showed no plans to betray us. Were she to do so, I was sure she would die in the snow trying to escape.

“We are decided,” I said. “Today we will walk back to the horses, retrieve their meat, and build a fire to cook hot food. Tomorrow we will set out for the inn. Beth and Asha will remain there, and after a rest, Lyra and I will set out for Deepwood Motte.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next episode, Dejah Thoris struggles through snowdrifts to save her dying sister.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris considers the other white meat.

Chapter Six

We altered our plan slightly; I walked back to the horses alone, since their bodies lay within telepathic range of our snow cave, while my sisters and sworn sword cleared a space to build a fire and collected wood that might be dry inside. Beth could not spark a fire with her flint and steel, as her fingers remained too numb, and Lyra had to help her. I could feel Beth’s shame and fear as I trudged toward the dead horses.

I love horses; I love the feel of them underneath me as I ride, and I love the feel of their thoughts in my mind as we commune. It saddened me to butcher their frozen corpses, but I knew that I had to eat their flesh were I to survive here in the wilderness. And my sisters would not survive without me. Drawing my sword, I hacked off the rear legs and haunches of two horses, all the meat I believed I could carry. And then I dragged them back up the road to our campsite, along with some of the tack Lyra had asked me to bring.

Snow continued to fall as I made my way back, but I could follow the furrow I had made through the snow and would have been able to return even without the aid of telepathy. My companions had built a fire within a ring of stones, and my sisters sat on pieces of dead trees carving the sodden outer layers off other, smaller pieces with their Valyrian steel daggers. Asha Greyjoy collected snow and melted it in the cooking vessel that I had considered superfluous when we rode out of Winterfell but now would save our lives. It took a great deal of melted snow to yield a pot of water.

She had re-filled our water skins, so I hacked pieces of flesh from one of the frozen haunches and tossed them into the pot to simmer. The smell both sickened and tantalized me; I felt a great hunger, and I knew that I might have to carry my sister Beth to the inn. I would have to retain my strength. Yet the thought of eating horseflesh repelled me.

While the meat simmered, Lyra used the leather lines from the tack and some branches of trees to fashion a small sledge we could drag over the snow to carry some of our gear and supplies. She had obviously done such things before so I left her to the work and sat beside Beth before the fire, helping her carve firewood and stir the pot.

When she declared our food ready I put aside my feelings and ate my share of horseflesh, and when we cooked some more of it I ate that as well. Darkness had begun to fall again - the days had shortened considerably – and so we returned to the snow cave for another night of sleep. This time Lyra and I placed Beth between us, and while Beth seemed much better I now worried that Lyra had suffered more from the cold than she admitted. I had far less concern for Asha Greyjoy, who was likely in worse condition, and felt some shame for this neglect but did not move my focus from my sisters.

As I felt Beth breathe alongside me, I considered how I had come to love my former apprentice as my sister. Beth Cassel was a pretty woman of more than normal height, leaving her somewhat shorter than Lyra or I. She wore her dark brown hair in the fashion of Northern soldiers, in a shaggy cut touching the top of her shoulders. She had a small nose and the tiny spots called freckles that some Northerners had on their faces and chests; these made her look even younger than her years. Passionate training had given her a very firm physique, though she remained slender.

Beth had fought by my side as fiercely as any woman I had known on Barsoom, or any man for that matter. She was by far the best pupil I had taught since my arrival. Much of that came from her determination; she practiced long, hard and seriously with the sword. Most women of Barsoom prefer the spear, as it better suits female strengths, but Beth Cassel seemed very natural with a blade in her hands. Apparently like her father and other male Cassel relations, she possessed a great deal of natural quickness and hand-to-eye coordination, and she readily took to her lessons.

Now 21 years old, she was past the age when most women of this place married. She preferred to become a full-time soldier like her father, a path denied to young women outside of Bear Island. She had been captured first by the Iron Born raiders who took Winterfell and then by the Bolton family who “liberated” the castle, in each case sorely used for the conquerors’ sexual pleasure. The Boltons sold her to slave traders; she escaped and sought me out. She did not wish to ever feel helpless again.

Yet now she was, felled by the cold where enemy blades could not. I had sated my hunger and felt very strong; I would not allow anything to happen to my sisters. 

* * *

In the morning, we built a new fire and roasted more horseflesh before we set out. The snow now came to a level between my waist and my breasts, but the wind had shoved it into drifts so that the depth varied. I went first to break a path through the snow, and carried my hunting javelin in my hand to poke through the snow and make sure I did not step into any unseen holes or other obstacles. Were I to injure an ankle or knee in an unseen hole, we would all likely die along the road. The snow continued to fall steadily, slowly deepening its drifts.

Beth followed directly behind me, at times keeping one hand on my back, with Asha Greyjoy behind her. Lyra brought up the rear, pulling the small sledge behind her. I worried that she bore this burden alone, but the others were in no condition to help and I could not do so and still clear the way through the snow.

I monitored the thoughts of all three women walking in my path, and when one became distressed I called a halt to rest, eat and drink. Usually Beth or Asha needed to stop, but twice I did so for Lyra’s benefit though she scowled at me when I started to ask her if she were well.

Darkness approached, and we sought shelter. At Lyra’s direction, I cut down branches of the trees she named “spruce” and arranged them against a leaning tree to form protection from wind and snow. We spread our waterproof canvas underneath, and built our nest of saddle blankets and furs.

Asha and Beth nestled into the furs, but I stood outside and stretched, looking at the skies. Snow still fell, though it seemed to have slackened somewhat. At least the wind had died away. Lyra came and stood with me.

“We should never have ridden out of Winterfell,” I said. “Ser Davos would have given us a sledge.”

“We had no way of knowing,” she said. “Winter storms do this in the North; they come howling down from the Lands of Always Winter without warning. The old ones say the wind can blow so hard and level that cattle drown from snow blown down their snouts. We were unlucky, but it could have been worse.”

“How are you?”

“Tired,” she admitted. “My arms and shoulders are sore. But what about you?”

“I am also tired,” I said. “It takes a great deal of effort to smash through the snow, even with enhanced strength. And that extra strength did not make me any larger than I was before.”

“You have to take care of yourself,” Lyra said, looking worried. “We’re not going to make it without you.”

“Truly?” I asked. “How far are we from the next inn?”

“We should arrive there the day following tomorrow, if we do as well as we did today.”

“Even if I have to carry each of you, we can cross that distance.”

“We don’t know how the innkeeper and his family will greet us.”

“If they will not aid my sisters,” I said. “Then I shall kill them, and we will take their food and fuel.”

“You can’t kill people just because they’re afraid.”

“You are right. But I will kill them if they sentence my sisters to death, and that is what it means to refuse aid in this weather.”

Lyra and I joined our companions, and I slept very solidly. In the morning, Beth and Asha appeared capable of continuing; Lyra did as well but her condition seemed to be weakening. I would have to watch over her closely. We cleared a patch of rocky ground for a fire, and warmed some of the roasted horsemeat. I despised its flavor, but I ate a great deal of it, knowing that I would need its energy.

Once again I plunged through the snow, pressing a way forward. After marching for some distance I tired, and in the afternoon for the first time I called a halt because I needed to rest. We found a large flat rock that we could easily sweep clear of snow. Lyra built a small fire, boiled water and poured a small amount of dark brown powder into the vessel.

“Is that . . . ?” I dared not speak its name aloud.

“Coffee,” she said. “I had a small packet of it, and saved it for when it was needed. I think we’ve come to that moment.”

We pressed on, and as darkness fell I built another shelter out of branches. Lyra felt we might reach the inn on the next day, though her thoughts showed she only hoped that this were so and spoke to encourage Beth and Asha. She looked at me and shook her head slightly; I said nothing to contradict her.

I felt that I could endure another day, but the constant strain of pressing against the snow had begun to wear me down. Yet all three of the other women with me had become even more exhausted, and I knew that they could not last much longer. Lyra said nothing of her distress, not wishing to alarm the others, but Beth had stumbled frequently at the end of our day’s march.

The landscape never seemed to change: trees and more trees, with a blanket of white snow all around them. The road could easily be followed, by simply walking where there were no trees. I detected the thoughts of animals, but I did not know if I retained the strength and coordination to kill them.

As the sun reached its highest point on the following day, the wind began to pick up again, driving a wall of snow before it. We continued to struggle forward, and early in the afternoon Beth Cassel collapsed. I slung her over my shoulder, and continued to push forward, with Asha clinging to the back of my outer fur cloak and Lyra remaining close behind her.

“We have to stop,” Lyra shouted in my ear some time later. “Asha can’t go on. I’m not much better.”

I saw the outline of large trees some distance ahead and pointed.

“Under there,” I shouted back. Lyra assented in her thoughts. I pressed forward.

The trees offered only a little shelter, and I struggled to construct a wall of branches amid the howling wind. But I also detected, very faintly, thoughts ahead. Human thoughts. These had to be the innkeeper and his family. I pulled Lyra close.

“I can feel thoughts,” I shouted into her ear. “I will take Beth and come back for you.”

She did not object, which made clear to me the gravity of the situation. I again placed my sister over my shoulder and continued forward. Eventually, I reached the low-slung wooden building. I could clearly read the thoughts of five people within, three adults and two children.

I staggered to the door and pushed on it; it had been barred. I pounded on it. Inside, the people grew terrified. I pounded again, and considered kicking it in but knew that repair would be difficult if the door shattered, and so the building’s ability to retain heat would be compromised. Finally a small slot opened and the innkeeper looked out.

“My sister is dying,” I shouted. “Open the door.”

To his credit, he overcame his fear and did so. I stumbled inside; the inn’s common room remained cold. The inhabitants remained in their own quarters and the kitchen, which could be more easily and economically heated. I shifted Beth from my shoulder to my arms and took her into the kitchen. The innkeeper’s wife laid a pallet on the floor in front of their stove and I placed Beth on it.

“I have two friends still in the storm,” I said. “I must go and find them.”

“You’ll never reach them in this,” the innkeeper’s wife said.

“I slew a dragon,” I said. “A storm shall not defeat me.”

“We’ll take care of your sister,” she said, and her thoughts confirmed her good will. I was glad that I did not have to kill her. She did not expect me to return.

I followed my own tracks back to Lyra and Asha, which made for easier walking. I knew from their thoughts that they still lived, but they had weakened by the time I got to them. As soon as I arrived I took Asha over my left shoulder as I had Beth. While Asha was not as large as Beth or Lyra, she was still somewhat taller and heavier than most women of this place. Lyra clung to my right side, and when we had gone about half the distance to the inn I took her over my right shoulder and staggered on. Had I not already broken a path, I doubt that I would have made it.

Once inside the inn, I found three more pallets waiting in the kitchen. The innkeeper and his wife took Asha and Lyra from me, and I sat on a chair next to the stove to unwrap my face and pull off my boots and clothing. The innkeeper’s wife sent her husband away and summoned the third adult, who turned out to be her younger sister.

“You’re beautiful,” the younger woman said; she was plain-faced and about the same age as Beth. “Like a princess.”

“I am a princess,” I said. “Or I was. Now I am an adoptive daughter of House Mormont. These are my sisters, Beth Cassel, also an adoptive daughter, and Lyra Mormont, a true-born daughter. And this is Yara, a soldier of House Mormont who serves as our guard.”

I knew that Asha Greyjoy had attacked Deepwood Motte and fought battles in this area; I did not know how these people would react to her true identity, or if they would know of her at all.

“How is my sister?”

“She didn’t seem to know where she was,” the innkeeper’s wife said. “She kept asking for Dejah. Is that you?”

“I am sorry,” I said. “The cold has robbed me of my manners. I am Dejah Thoris, former princess of Helium, now of House Mormont.”

“You mentioned that.”

“I am somewhat confused myself.”

She worked to strip Lyra of her clothing, and rolled my sister’s limbs between her hands.

“She’s chilled,” the innkeeper’s wife said. “But no frostbite. She’ll be better with some soup and some sleep. How’s the other one?”

“No frostbite either,” the sister said, working on Asha Greyjoy. “But not very responsive.”

“You’re all She-Bears,” the wife realized. “Women warriors of Bear Island.”

“We were on our way home when the storm struck,” I said. “Our horses froze. We walked here.”

“How long?”

“I am not sure. Perhaps five days? Possibly six?”

“You should be dead.”

“You are not the first to tell me this.”

The two kindly women dressed us each in the plain under-dress known as a “shift,” and gave us furs and blankets. They did not object when I insisted on sharing a pallet with both Lyra and Beth, finding it odd but endearing. I wrapped both of my hands around one of Lyra’s; it was rough and calloused from years of sword-play, but I could feel her heart beating through it. I slept very deeply, awakening when my telepathic senses detected one of the women coming to stoke the fire and check on us, but they meant us no harm.

When morning came, I felt somewhat refreshed, and ate a great deal of food – biscuits and bacon, and some boiled grain known as “grits” with butter and salt. It was indeed very gritty, but I liked it. My sisters and Asha continued to sleep, but the innkeeper sat at the table with me.

“What will you do now?” he asked. “When your sisters are fit to travel?”

“We will press on for Deepwood Motte,” I said. “Is Galbart Glover your lord?”

“Indirectly,” he said. “These lands fall under House Woods, and they’re sworn to House Glover.”

“Lord Glover is my good friend,” I said. “He will replace the food we have eaten, and more besides. How far is it to his castle?”

“Perhaps five days by horse or sleigh in this weather,” he said. “You’ll not make it on foot.”

“We cannot stay here.”

He thought that he might like to spend a years-long winter with three beautiful women, but then he recalled the arsenal of weapons we each carried.

“When the storm clears,” he said, “I’ll go to the holdfast and speak with Lord Woods. They have sleighs, and will doubtlessly provide one for a friend of Lord Glover.”

“You do not believe me?”

“I don’t know you . . .” he began, but his words trailed off as he remembered what he had heard in his common room. “No. You’re _that_ princess, what killed the Night’s King and the Bolton Bastard, and defended Lady Stark in single combat. And you killed a fire-breathing dragon.”

“There are many princesses in the North?”

“People say odd things when they’ve had the cold sickness. I figured it was just, you know, crazy talk.”

“I am a princess,” I said. “If that is crazy talk, it is not due to the cold.”

“People come through the common room, leastways before Winter they did, and telling or hearing stories is part of the reason. So we’ve heard about you. A little about your sisters, too.”

“And in the stories, am I a good person?”

“They’s stories, princess.”

No, I was not a good person in these stories. I slew powerful enemies of the North, but I also killed those who angered me. This was not completely false, but some tales apparently blamed (or credited) me with killing those who had not fallen at my hand, like Stannis Baratheon and Brandon Stark, and Val the Wilding, who was not dead though I had at times wished that she were. Others accurately recounted that I had burned a red priestess to death.

The innkeeper believed that he now had a story that would bring him customers, once Winter ended, and at his urging I carved my name on his wall. I used the letters of Helium, which made them even more pleasingly exotic in his eyes.

After two days the winds died down, and the innkeeper pronounced conditions safe enough for travel. He bundled himself heavily, and strapped long extensions onto his boots, similar to the “snow gliders” of the Okar people, that would allow him to slide across the surface of the snow.

His wife and her sister worried, but he returned that evening with a sleigh, an older man missing the tip of his nose who was called Noseless Ned, and Lord Woods himself, a young man eager to prove his worth to the Glovers.

The lordling kissed my hand, and did the same for my sisters. He took Asha’s, then met her eyes as he raised it to his lips. He dropped it.

“I know you,” he said. “I marched with Stannis.”

“She is now a soldier of House Mormont,” I said. “And those days are in the past.”

“Aye,” he said, unwilling to anger me. “Let it be so.”

He made no move to raise Asha’s hand again, however.

My sisters and Asha appeared fully recovered. We had few belongings; other than my clothing and weapons, I only had my map while Beth still carried her father’s sword as well as her own. We departed at first light, and I thanked the innkeeper as profusely as I could. The sleigh had three pairs of seats and a place for cargo; Noseless Ned rode in front to steer with Asha beside him, I nestled with Lyra in the back and Lord Woods had arranged to accidentally find himself alongside Beth Cassell. A younger daughter of House Mormont, he calculated, would be a valuable marriage partner.

We reached another inn before the sun set; the people within did not wish to admit us but Lord Woods proclaimed his identity and ordered them to do so. Reluctantly they assigned us rooms, stoked fires in them and prepared Evening Meal for us and their liege.

I had not exercised in days, and the ride had left me stiff. After we had eaten I again walked outside into the cold evening air to stretch. I had enjoyed Lyra’s closeness during the sleigh ride, but the stress and exertion of previous days still wore on me and individual muscles on occasion trembled unbidden.

Beth came outside to join me; she had been made most uncomfortable by the young lord’s attention.

“He’s not a bad man,” she said. “But . . . you know.”

“I do know,” I said. “I shall place Asha next to him tomorrow.”

We walked back inside; the innkeeper had assigned us two rooms and Lyra and Asha already had fallen asleep in theirs. We stripped off our clothing and cleaned ourselves with the soft cloth and basin of warm water the innkeeper had provided and then I joined Beth under the thick cover known as a comforter. She turned to face me; I liked the way the firelight danced in her deep blue eyes.

“I dreamt of this,” she said. “Lying just like this after we . . . you know. Did that actually happen?”

“No,” I said, and yielded to a reckless thought. “Do you wish it to?”

“Kiss me.”

I slid forward, pressing my body against hers, placed my left hand under her head and my right on her hip, and kissed her. She closed her eyes, opened her mouth and kissed me back. She placed her hand on my flank and then moved it slowly and gently to my right breast. I felt her warmth wherever we touched. I shifted my hand from her hip to her breast, feeling the rough edges of the ropy scars on her back under my fingertips as I slid them along her flesh, and broke the kiss.

“May I enter your mind?” I whispered. “That will guide me to pleasuring you.”

“I want to pleasure you as well.”

“We have different organs. I feel the pleasure through your mind.”

“Do it.”

“Look into my eyes.”

I slipped easily into her mind, and saw my own eyes through hers. Through her thoughts I felt how deeply she loved me and desired me. Through my fingers I felt her nipple stiffen while feeling my own hand on her breast through her mind, even as I felt her hand on my breast both through her thoughts and through my flesh.

“Keep your eyes locked on mine,” I whispered, and kissed her. She ran her tongue along mine and moaned.

I kissed her jawline and her throat, and moved down to her left breast, gently pushing her onto her back. Whether on this planet or mine, women’s breasts are very similar if not identical, and I had long-practiced skills in making love to a woman’s breast. No one had ever done this to her; men had grabbed them roughly but they had never appreciated what they held in their hands.

As I sucked and teased her nipple and nipped it with my teeth, I felt the first stirrings of orgasm. Her breasts were pale, dotted with the small markings called “freckles,” with fewer of them visible around the nipple or on the underside. Even lying on her back her breasts remained pert and upright, and though slightly smaller than Tansy’s or mine hers were much more sensitive than either of ours. I loved the feel of them under my hands and tongue, even as I loved the feel of my hands and tongue on them through Beth’s mind.

Gently she pulled my head away from her breast, and kissed me again. She wished to do the same for me, and pressed me onto my back. Though unskilled, she had long admired my breasts and enjoyed kissing and sucking them. Her joy at finally touching them, placing her lips and tongue on them, warmed me. Again I felt both the thrill of her hands and tongue on my breasts, and the eagerness she felt in touching and kissing them.

She leaned forward and kissed me, and I slid my hand between her legs, my first finger inside her. She was very wet there, much more so than Tansy had been. She received orgasm almost immediately, and I felt the hormones pulse through my own body as well. She wanted to scream, but jammed her fist into her mouth. I felt the same urge and forced it back.

Beth collapsed atop me, breathing very hard. Once again, my entire body felt drained. I had never experienced such a wonderful feeling. Her sheer joy at having willing sex for the first time had nearly wiped away my own thoughts, something that had not happened since I had first matured and learned how to manage my telepathic abilities.

She looked up at me after we had stopped panting. I brushed her hair out of her eyes.

“I love you,” she said

“And I you.” I kissed her.

“Will we tell Tansy?”

“Yes,” I said. “She knew this was likely to happen.”

“Will she be upset?”

“I do not know. She loves you and does not wish to be jealous, but it is difficult for your people to love more than one person.”

“Dejah . . . I don’t want to come between you.” She gently placed her hand around my right breast, running her thumb over the nipple. “I don’t want to stop doing this, either.”

“Tansy said she wished to join us for sex. I do not know if she was serious.”

“She’s the only other person I’d ever want to lay with.”

“You and I will speak with her together,” I said, “of our love for her and for one another.”

“Love isn’t always enough.”

“It will have to be.”

She released my breast and nestled against me; she felt very happy despite her worries about our sister’s feelings.

“I’m glad you were my first,” she said. “I’m your mistress now. I wanted to say that out loud.”

“I should introduce you to people as my mistress?”

“No, that’s just between you and I. You can tell Tansy, if she doesn’t hate us.”

“You will always be my sister first.”

“I know. Safe with you.”

“Safe with you, too.” 

* * *

In the morning we awakened as the sun rose, made use of the white powder these people use to clean their teeth and freshen their breath, and then made love again. I found myself very eager to explore the freckles dotting her breasts. Once again Beth received orgasm so quickly that I had no chance to deploy my tongue, and once again she had to stifle a scream as she reached her climax. On Barsoom I never would have sought sex again so soon, and I again hoped that I was not becoming addicted to the hormonal rush of orgasm.

When we entered the common room for First Meal, Asha Greyjoy looked at me and smiled; I probed her thoughts and saw that while she suspected what had happened between Beth and I, she had spent a good portion of the night engaged in vigorous sex with Lord Woods. When we climbed aboard the sleigh, she took the place next to the young nobleman and Lyra sat with the driver, leaving Beth on the rear seat with me.

“I was wondering,” she said quietly, so no one else could hear. “Can I feel what you feel? While we make love, I mean. Through your mind.”

I thought on that question for a few moments. More powerful telepaths can project their thoughts and emotions to others, and capable telepaths can exchange them so fluidly that it is difficult to determine whether one is reading them from another or having them projected. I had done the latter many times, but had never counted myself as a strong telepath. Yet the act of sex definitely increases one’s abilities, even among those of Barsoom, and my mind had felt much more powerful during sex with both Tansy and Beth.

“Possibly,” I finally said. “I was not trying to project my thoughts, merely enjoying your own excitement.”

“I thought I felt something that was yours, not mine.”

“It is possible,” I said. “But in such an intimate act, I believe one feels a connection even without telepathy.”

“Then we need to try again.”

“I agree. It may require that we do so many times to be sure.”

I thought more on her idea, and became concerned. Trained telepaths can derive extraordinary sexual pleasure from sharing the experience. But we of Barsoom do not receive orgasm as do the people of this planet; I could only experience it through the thoughts of another. Our training also teaches us to break what the masters call a “feedback loop,” where an emotion is passed back and forth, growing stronger each time, finally leading to a psychotic breakdown. If Beth had indeed felt some of my passion through our telepathic link, then I would have to be more careful.

We had pulled down the scarves covering our faces in order to speak clearly. With all of our companions looking forward – I checked their thoughts to be sure – I leaned over and kissed Beth again. I considered snaking my hand through her furs to give her orgasm, but feared that she might scream; I could not reach her breast through the layers of fur and leather. I liked having a mistress. I hoped that I had not created fresh difficulties for myself and my sisters. 

* * *

For the final stretch to Deepwood Motte I rode next to Lyra, once again in the rear seat, which I found very comfortable. Asha remained with Lord Woods; her thoughts said she considered him a disposable sex toy that she had enjoyed so far. He seemed grateful to have avoided much contact with the rest of us, deciding that if Asha Greyjoy left him exhausted then sex with one of us might have killed him.

I felt much recovered, and my sisters seemed in good condition as well. I nestled close to Lyra for most of the ride, enjoying her closeness and wanting re-assurance of her love after having had sex with Beth; she suspected that we had done so but was not sure, and was not terribly concerned. The sight of Lord Glover’s wooden castle proved an enormous relief.

The guards at the gate recognized us, and immediately sent for the Glovers. They were surprised to see us with Lord Woods, and Lyra quickly gave the outlines of our story. To my deep surprise, Lady Sybelle rushed forward to embrace me.

“No one could have survived that,” she said. “Not without you.”

“She saved all of us,” Lyra said. “She carried me across one shoulder over the last stretch to the inn, with Asha on the other.”

To my deeper surprise, Lady Sybelle then embraced Lyra.

Galbart Glover ushered us into the castle’s Great Hall where we could speak without freezing, and ordered hot drinks and food. His brother sent servants to clear the castle’s bathhouse and prepare hot water for us all.

“The innkeeper took a great risk letting us into his home,” I told Galbart Glover. “I promised that you would make good the food he gave us. I hope I did not overstep.”

“Of course not!” he said. “We’ll fill the sleigh of Lord Woods when he heads back, but not before we’ve feasted him as well.”

He grasped the young lord’s hand in both of his.

“Princess Dejah and her sisters are good friends of House Glover,” he said, “and particular friends of mine. Whatever reward you ask, be it in my power, is yours.”

Lord Woods considered various advantages for himself or his house, then realized that he could gain more over time from earning Galbart Glover’s esteem.

“It was my duty,” he said, “and my pleasure. I need nothing, but perhaps a tax abatement for the inn would be in order.”

“Perfect,” Galbart Glover said. “Let the inn stand tax free as long as it, um, stands.”

A servant announced that our baths were ready, and we trooped along after her. Lord Glover excused himself, leaving his brother to entertain Lord Woods, and fell into step alongside me.

“You were successful?” he asked.

“Very much so,” I said. “I have not had the chance to consider what we learned, but it was all that I could have hoped.”

“That is good news indeed,” he said. “And I am very glad to see all of you safe.”

“As am I. I was not worried for myself, but had grave concerns for Beth Cassel and Asha Greyjoy.”

“Cold sickness?”

“Yes. Exhaustion claimed Lyra toward the end but at that point I had no doubt that I could carry her the remaining distance.”

“I’m glad you were there. Lady Beth has seen hard years. It’s good that she has you.”

He suspected that we were lovers, and wished that he had the courage to find a lover of his own.

We entered the bathhouse and stripped naked; Asha slipped into the large tub with me before Beth or Lyra could do so. They took the other steaming tub.

“Still hate me?” she asked.

“I no longer regret failing to kill you,” I said. “And I apologize for considering your ass as a food source.”

She did not believe that I had been serious about eating her; on Barsoom, it is not considered cannibalism to consume members of another intelligent species, only those of one’s own. I had myself nearly become a meal for the First Born; I had not eaten human flesh on this planet though I had been very hungry on occasion.

“Progress,” Asha said, grinning. “And I might eventually forgive you for slapping a ridiculous name like ‘Yara’ on me.”

“It was the best I could do with no time to think.”

“And it showed. It wouldn’t have hurt you to apply just a little creativity.”

Then she grew more serious. “What do you know of the Iron Born?”

“Very little,” I said. “I have met them in battle twice, but you are the only one with whom I have spoken.”

“Twice? Who else did you fight?”

“A merchant ship with white sails attacked us at sea. My sisters and I boarded her and killed the crew.”

“The prize,” she nodded. “Our ships were crowded so we put forty aboard her. You three killed them all?”

“Yes.”

“Shouldn’t surprise me. You’ve heard then that we rape and thieve and murder.”

“Yes.”

“Much of that’s true. We also lie and cheat. With one exception. We never break an oath.”

“You swore an oath to my house.”

“That I did,” she said. “And so I’ll obey you and your sisters. I’ll fight for you, and if needs be I’ll die for you. I’d rather not, truth be told, but I’ll do so before I break my oath.”

She spoke the truth.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You could have left me. You really should have. I’ve seen how much you love Lyra; you could have taken her on alone. I won’t forget that.”

She ducked her head under the water and arose, sputtering.

“I suppose I have one more chance to toss Lords Woods onto the carpet.”

“I had thought you were tossing Lord Tycho.”

“You of all people shouldn’t be scolding about exclusivity, now should you?”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

She smiled.

“Neither do I.”

And so she had my silence on the matter, and I hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next episode, Dejah Thoris offers sex advice. This is not a good idea.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris and Ralf the dog experience ice-fishing.

Chapter Seven

Galbart Glover drove us to Deepwood Port himself in his sleigh, having sent Lord Woods and Noseless Ned back to the inn and their holdfast with a full load of food and wine.

“You’ll send a raven when you’re ready?” he asked as he prepared to head back to his castle.

“Yes,” I said. “I will do my best to include you yourself in the operation at the very least. Ser Marlon Manderly is also eager to participate.”

“I suspect every Northman would say the same.”

We met with our captain and crew, who had kept the ship ready to depart despite the foul weather. Now we had to wait for the right moment to sail. The inn had but one room for us all, and I had no opportunity to make love to my new mistress though we stole into the stable to kiss between the horses.

“You want me,” she whispered, huskily.

“I do.”

“You can have me whenever you want me.”

I suspected that Beth Cassel could receive orgasm through kisses alone, but as on our sleigh ride I dared not attempt this lest she scream.

“I ache for you,” I whispered back, stroking her hair. “But someone might hear.”

As the skies lightened each morning, Asha Greyjoy and our ship captain walked to a small rocky outcrop overlooking Deepwood Port to look at the weather. They held their thumbs in the air, studied birds and clouds and discussed their fears. Always their fears.

“I believe we could make it,” the captain told her on the third morning; I monitored them via telepathy while they thought I still slept.

“Princess would cut us both into small pieces and feed us to the fishes, were any harm to come to her precious sisters.”

“She can’t swim,” the captain said. “She’d have drowned even faster than the rest of us.”

“True enough,” Asha said, and paused. “She carried me miles through the snow, when I was good as frozen to death. We’re going to do this as safe as we can.”

It had not been a distance of miles. Yet I saw no reason to correct her misconception, should she voice it within my hearing.

“You’ll hear no arguments from me. What are you thinking?”

“Winds have been turning every morning. Another day, maybe two, we’ll have warmer air up from the South. Powerful storms when it meets the cold, so we’ll dash across on its edge before that happens.”

“You have a nose for it,” the captain said. “Never thought I’d sail with . . . an Iron Born.”

“You mean Iron Bitch. It’s all right, I kind of like it.”

Weather on this planet bore some resemblance to that of Barsoom, but only some. I speculated that the presence of large oceans of water created profound effects; I would have to consider this. I had written a few scientific papers, now neatly stacked in my office in the Mormont Keep barracks, and pondered adding a treatise on weather. No one would ever read these, or at least I now considered it highly unlikely. But my writing served to focus my thoughts, and I had long written merely to gain the acclaim of others. To my surprise, I had found it rewarding to do so for my own satisfaction.

When my sisters awakened, Asha told us to be ready to move out quickly. We would board the ship, sail with the morning tide and race for Bear Island ahead of the storms. 

* * *

According to Asha Greyjoy we had a smooth passage on our return to Bear Island, though it seemed rough to me. The sea and sky blended together in a uniform, unpleasant gray tone that made it impossible to pick out the horizon and thereby mitigate my seasickness. Fortunately I had my sisters with me, and they tended me through the endless days and nights.

Beth Cassel seemed so happy to have become my secret mistress that she still found me beautiful even while I puked into a bucket and managed to land half of the vomit on the deck and my boots. While Lyra was away she quickly lifted my braid and kissed me on the back of my neck, the only clean place left on my body. Even through my misery, I enjoyed the sensation.

Only a small party greeted us when we reached the dock: Tansy, Jory, Alysane and Maege. I felt much better with the dock under my feet, since it did not move, and walked to the Keep without assistance.

“Successful?” Maege asked as she walked beside me, Alysane flanking me on the other side.

“I believe so,” I said. “I obtained all useful information from Hosteen Frey, and then he was hanged in Winterfell’s courtyard.”

“Good. Any trouble?”

“We were on the road when a terrible winter storm appeared. Our horses froze and we sheltered in a cave of snow.”

“Dejah carried us,” Lyra said from behind us. “On her back.”

“All at once?”

“Beth first,” I said, “then I came back for Asha and Lyra. We reached an inn where we could warm ourselves, and one of Galbart Glover’s followers took us the rest of the way in a sleigh.”

“We would have died without Dejah,” Lyra said.

Maege stopped and pulled me into another fierce hug.

“You truly are my daughter,” she whispered into my ear. “Thank you.”

Tansy walked with Beth and I back to our chamber, where we both placed our swords and daggers on the rack we had fitted onto the wall to hold them and put our extra clothing away. Beth placed her father’s sword on a special bracket over the fireplace, left over from before our arrival on Bear Island. Gilly and her son were in the Great Hall playing with the other small children; she would without doubt re-organize everything later.

“You two have something to tell me?” Tansy asked.

“It’s not her fault,” Beth said quickly. “I was naked and I told her I’d dreamed of laying with her and then I kissed her and touched her breast. In the morning we did it again.”

“I kissed you first,” I said.

“I’m pretty sure it was me,” she said, then turned back to Tansy. “Please don’t hate us. Or just hate me if you have to.”

“You weren’t alone,” Tansy said. ““It takes two.”

“If you hate Dejah,” Beth answered, “I’ll throw myself off a cliff.”

Tansy sighed.

“You’re not going to throw yourself off a cliff,” she said. “And I’m not going to hate anyone.”

“You are not angry with me?” I asked.

“You are who you are,” Tansy said. “I promised not to be angry, did I not? I’ve never loved anyone before you, not really, and never really felt jealousy. Envy, of course. Jealousy’s different. I don’t like it.”

“You do not mind that Beth Cassel is my mistress?”

“Mistress?”

“She said she is my mistress now. It is a secret.”

Tansy finally laughed.

“I suppose every hero must have a mistress,” she said. “And a lover.”

“I think my secret mistress wants me to share her with you.”

My mistress smiled and playfully shoved my shoulder.

“You both should have died out there,” Tansy said. “I’m just grateful that you’re both still here.”

“We’re forgiven?” Beth asked.

“There’s nothing to forgive. I think this winter could be very comfortable.” 

* * *

I enjoyed re-uniting with Jory and Tansy, and all five of us spent long evenings nestled before the fire while Tansy read adventure stories to us. I loved feeling the warmth of my sisters, though I worried that Lyra would feel excluded and nervously paid her extra attention.

I returned to my work routine, which shifted now that the weather had worsened. Training continued for the House Guard, and I included marches through the snow and drills in the worst weather – invaders would not be so polite as to pick only sunny days to attack our island.

In addition to my military duties, I sawed and split a great deal of firewood from the dead trees that had been stockpiled outside the Keep, and on several occasions I climbed to the roof after a storm to help clear off the snow so it would not crush the structure, assess damage and make repairs. I enjoyed the view and the work, as it allowed me to show off my climbing skills.

While climbing about the roof, I made the horrifying discovery that Mormont Keep had no lightning protection: the people simply prayed that their tree god would protect them from the storm god. Unwilling to trust my family’s well-being to the whims of mythical spirits, I instead sought out Gendry to fashion a lightning rod, wire connection and grounding rod that we would fit to Mormont Keep. I had not traveled through space and time to die in an electrical fire.

Gendry agreed to make what I needed, and I found that he not only had paid court to Jeyne Poole – joining her for meals and telling her of his interest in her – but had engaged in sex with Pia. He confessed this to me after we finished sketching the lightning fixtures.

“I am the wrong person to ask,” I said. “In my lands, there is nothing wrong with having sex with more than one person. I have done so myself many times. But that is considered a very bad thing here.”

“I feel very guilty,” he said. “I do want to be with Jeyne, but Pia kept coming by the smithy and my quarters, asking for laundry, offering to mend things. And she kept bending over so I could see her . . . her . . .”

“Breasts?”

“Yes.”

“She has very fine breasts, Gendry. And she is very pretty with her new teeth.”

“She pressed them right up against me and said she wouldn’t mind if I touched them and so I did. I couldn’t help it. I liked it. And then we were kissing and then, well, you know.”

“She is a grown woman, Gendry. We like sex too. We are not supposed to say so openly in these lands, but that does not make it false.”

“I feel very dirty.”

“Why? She wished to make love to you. You did not force her. You both enjoyed it, did you not?”

“I did. I think she did; at least she wanted to do it again right away. So we did and she, um, showed me what she wanted. But things just aren’t done that way. It’s not honorable. I’m supposed to be a knight.”

“This was your first time?”

“Yes,” he said, reluctantly. “I was born a bastard. I don’t want to make any new bastards. And I wanted the first time to be with my wife.”

“No one on Bear Island is a bastard,” I said. “But Tansy would know more. She has had sex with many people. Would it shame you to ask her advice?”

“It would,” he said. “I really admire what she’s made of herself, and she’s your sister but I can’t talk to her the way I do with you.”

“I understand.”

“What do I do if Pia wants to, um, do my laundry again?”

“I know that things are different on Bear Island, that a woman may have sex with whom she pleases. Then surely a man can do so as well. As long as she is willing, I see no reason not to enjoy yourselves. Jeyne may not be so understanding. Have you asked her for sex?”

“No, I wouldn’t dream of it. She’s a lady, and you warned me about what happened to her.”

“You should treat all women as ladies, Gendry, from the pig herder to Lady Mormont. But I agree that it is not yet the time to ask Jeyne for sex. Do you still wish to marry her?”

“I do.”

“You should tell Pia this, and that the sex must end if you do marry, or promise to marry.”

“It shouldn’t end now?”

“You are a healthy young man,” I said. “She is a healthy young woman. Neither of you is promised to another.”

“That’s not what a mother of Westeros would say.”

“Tansy would remind me that I am not truly your mother. And I am not of Westeros. But that is what seems right to me.”

“It’s what I want to hear,” Gendry said. “But what you want to hear isn’t usually what’s best.” 

* * *

“Would you like a little adventure?” Lyra asked as I sipped my coffee in the Great Hall. We had exercised in the snowy courtyard, and even I appreciated the warm drink after the cold air outside.

“I have had a great deal of adventure of late.”

“There’s a hunting lodge far up the mountain, reserved for the family. It needs to be checked regularly during Winter, lest the snows crush it.”

“The last time we journeyed during Winter,” I said. “I carried you through the snow.”

“We’ll have a sleigh, and we can take a raven. Just you and I.”

I knew she had felt a distance growing between us, and I did not wish for her to have such feelings. I loved Lyra no less fiercely than I had before I placed my finger inside Beth Cassel and my lips on her freckled breast. I adored her freckled breasts.

“That is different,” I said. “When do we leave?”

Lyra drove the sleigh, and I rode behind her wrapped in many furs. At the last moment Ralf the dog climbed into the sleigh; Jory saw her do so and waved, so I assumed that she did not mind.

I napped for most of the ride, very comfortable amid the warmth and the vibrations of the sleigh’s runners across the snow. Ralf sat next to Lyra, scanning for bears or other enemies, wolves in particular. Ralf hated wolves. I telepathically probed the nearby woods for bears as well, and found none, nor any other higher animals. I asked Lyra about this when she stopped to rest the horses at what she said was the halfway point of our ride.

“They sleep through the Winter,” she said. “The bears find caves, and many of the other animals build themselves hollows in snowbanks.”

“They sleep for years?” I asked. “And emerge alive?”

“Yes. If you wake one, they can be even more dangerous than usual.”

“What about domestic animals? Do horses sleep? Does Ralf?”

Hearing her name, Ralf hopped off the sleigh and walked over to stare at me. I patted her head and assured her that she was a good dog.

“Usually they don’t, and you have to take the horses out and exercise them.”

“How do they breed?”

“Horses? The usual way, they just do it inside.”

“What do they eat?”

“Their fodder. There’s no grazing of course so they just get oats and hay.”

I knew from caring for my own mare that she ate about two percent of her body weight daily. So she would consume her own weight – about 1,200 of what these people termed “pounds” – every fifty days. That would total a little over four tons every year. If the winter lasted five to ten years, as I had been told . . . I could not see how any livestock would survive. There were well over one hundred horses, mules and dairy cows in Mormont Keep’s stables and barns, perhaps several times that number. There was not 4,000 tons of fodder in storage, or anything close to that amount.

“What about the wild animals?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Lyra said. “But they re-appear in the springtime.”

She believed this to be true, and I settled back into the sleigh without any satisfactory answers. Everyone I had asked about this provided vague explanations that they believed to be both true and sufficient.

The lodge proved to be a low-slung wooden building with, surprisingly, very little snow on its steeply-canted roof. We walked inside and found it warm; after lighting the candles inside several lamp fixtures it became very comfortable. The warmth seeped upwards out of the floor, covered in the flat rocks known as flagstones.

“It’s called a hypocaust,” Lyra explained. “There’s a hot spring just uphill from here. The hot water flows through pipes under the floor, close to the surface, to warm the lodge.”

The lodge had a large open room in its center, with a massive fireplace built of rocks, and six bed chambers, three on either side, all depending on the hypocaust for warmth. The back of the building had a bathhouse and a kitchen, with a small food-storage building, heavily-reinforced to repel bears, and stacks of firewood behind the lodge.

We had brought food with us, in case the lodge’s larders were empty, but found them well-stocked. Lyra prepared a meal of pork, potatoes and preserved cabbage – apparently these people became ill without regular ingestion of certain fruits and vegetables. I had learned from John Carter that we of Barsoom suffered from fewer dietary deficiencies than his people. Once again, I suspected that his people were identical to those of Westeros and its planet.

Afterwards we sat together before the fire, our legs crossed before us. As usual when no one else was about, we wore no clothing. I felt very content, but my sister did not.

“Dejah,” Lyra began. “What I said while we were hunting, back months ago . . . I’m still willing.”

“You are upset that I made love with Beth Cassel?”

She had guessed that we had, and I saw no point in trying to deceive her.

“Not upset, really. I feel left out. Pushed aside.”

“Never,” I said, rising to my knees to look her in the eye. I found her extraordinarily beautiful, with her very long dark brown hair, usually held in one or two braids, now loose down her back. She had pale skin, large breasts with wide, dark nipples, and was very fit.

I took her face in both of my hands. “I love you. Fiercely and without question, without condition. You are my sister, my true sister, and I would die without you.”

I kissed her. She opened her mouth and I ran my tongue along hers.

“Did you enjoy that?” I asked.

“Yes,” Lyra said, but she did not fully believe it.

“Would you like me to do it again?”

“I think so.”

I kissed her again, very long and as passionately as I could, wrapping my tongue around hers. It may be a prideful thought, but I truly believe that Beth or Tansy would have received orgasm from that kiss alone. Lyra found it pleasurable, but not exciting.

“You do not truly want this, do you?”

“I don’t mind it. I’ve never been kissed like that.”

I took her left breast in my right hand. It was full, round and very firm; I had never deliberately touched her breasts and had fantasized this moment many times, yet it gave me no thrill knowing that she did not share my excitement.

“Do you wish me to kiss your breasts?” I asked. “To place my long, blue tongue inside your sex organ? Do you not wish to touch me, to put your own lips on my breasts?”

She blushed. Somewhat reluctantly, I released her breast.

“Lyra. I love you. You know this. And I know that you love me. You do not have to make love to me to prove that. You may recall that I can read your thoughts.”

“But I can’t read yours.”

“Perhaps,” I said, thinking. “Masters of telepathy on my world can share thoughts with a non-telepath. I am not strong enough to do so, usually. But I have spent a great deal of time within your thoughts and know your mind’s patterns well. I am more attuned to you than to anyone else on this planet.

“Yes, even Tansy,” I said, reading the thought in her mind. “And no, I do not lie to make you feel better. Get up on your knees like me.”

She rose to her knees. I placed her hands on my waist, and did the same with mine on hers. We were almost exactly the same height, placing our eyes on the same level. And, I could not help but notice, our breasts. I did not tell her that we had assumed one of the common positions for sex among our people.

“Look into my eyes. Concentrate on them.”

I looked into her brown eyes, and the beautiful golden flecks within them. I slid easily into her thoughts, looking back into my own red eyes. I loved her. I wanted to be one with her.

“Be one with me,” I said softly. “Think of me.”

I loved her so. I could think of little else. And weakly, I felt her in my own mind. A small wisp of consciousness, but it was there. I had not felt another’s thoughts within my own mind since I departed Barsoom. I had missed the familiarity, the companionship. I had been lonely in my own mind.

“I love you,” we said together. And then she kissed me before she sat back on her heels, breathing heavily.

“That . . .” she began. “Is that how your people have sex?”

“Yes. The sharing of our innermost thoughts is far more erotic, more exciting, than anything physical. Even the miracle of orgasm.”

“I’ve never felt anything like that.”

“What did you feel?”

“You. Your love for me. My love for you reflected back. It was like two mirrors set up to face each other.”

“Yes. It can easily lead to madness.”

“I can see that. But for just a moment . . . we were one.”

“Do you see now that you and I share a unique bond? One far beyond sex?”

“I never wanted to doubt you. Is that how it feels to lay with you?”

She began to reconsider sex with me.

“As I said, I am attuned to you, more than I have been to anyone since well before I left Barsoom, even John Carter as I could not enter his mind. You and I only managed a very weak and brief connection, but that was more than I have felt in many years. Tansy’s thoughts are much too guarded; I can enter them only if I look directly into her eyes. The eyes have nothing to do with one’s thoughts, but they are a very good point of focus.

“Beth’s mind is much easier to penetrate, but I promised long ago to respect her privacy and have only entered her mind during times of stress or danger and now during sex. I do not have the same familiarity with her mind as I do with yours. You have never objected to my entering your thoughts.”

“I have nothing to hide. Well, I suppose I do, but you never judge me for it. You obviously wanted to be my friend from the moment you awakened in Greywater Watch.”

“I was attracted to you,” I said. “To your beauty, and to your mind.”

“That’s what men are supposed to say.”

“Yes, but I actually mean it.”

She laughed.

“I’m sorry I had doubts. Can we forget them and enjoy ourselves here?”

We sat by the fire late into the night, drinking wine and talking of favorite former lovers and comparing the sex acts of our species. We finally fell asleep tangled together; it was one of the best nights I have ever spent in my very long life. 

* * *

We awoke late, and Lyra insisted that we dress for the outdoors so that I could experience the wonder of ice-fishing. We placed a small hut-like structure on the ice of the lake below the lodge, and Lyra showed me how to use a special saw to cut a circular hole in the ice. We then dropped lines with cheese-baited hooks into the dark water, sat on pieces of dead trees and waited for fish to bite them and become snagged. We spread a small, ragged blanket next to the hole and Ralf settled on it, placed her head on her paws and went to sleep.

“And this is a favorite sport of Bear Island?” I asked. “Staring at a hole in the ice?”

“You don’t see the pleasure?”

“I do not. Neither does Ralf.”

She thrust a skin-bag full of wine into my chest.

“Ralf is a dog. And you’re still sober. Drink.”

I drank a great deal of wine, and caught several fish. But I could not say that I enjoyed it. I did enjoy the closeness of my sister, and the joy she took in communing with nature, even through a hole in the ice. She caught more fish than I, but just the act itself seemed to bring order to her thoughts and peace to her mind, much as she gained from kneeling in front of the white trees that the Northern people worshipped as gods.

That brought peace to my mind as well, much as I gained from kneeling alongside Lyra before the holy tree even though I believe in no gods. As I had told her, I had become well-attuned to her consciousness. When she felt comfort, so did I.

We took our fish back to the lodge, and I watched Lyra scale them in the kitchen, pull their spines and ribs out of their flesh and dip their meat into well-ground crumbs of dry bread and fry them in oil. We ate them before the fire, and I found them delicious. I found most food of this planet delicious, but knowing it came from my sister’s hands made the food seem very special.

After a nap before the fire, we entered the lodge’s bathhouse. The structure had been built onto the back of the lodge so we were not forced to go outside to enter. One large stone-lined tub had a valve system much like that of Mormont Keep’s bathhouse, and we quickly filled it with hot water and slipped in. We brought wine with us.

“I’m glad we did this,” Lyra said. “I was so worried.”

“You did not appear very dirty.”

“Mother’s right,” she said. “You do pretend to misunderstand speech when it suits you.”

“Possibly,” I said. “I am very glad you invited me here, too.”

“I don’t usually worry so.”

“You have never loved outside of the family, have you?”

“You’re part of my family.”

“Yes. But I have not always been. And you worry that I could leave.”

“You won’t leave.”

I pulled her close, making the water slop over the edge of the tub.

“I will not leave you.” 

* * *

For three more days we remained at the hunting lodge, eating when we wished, sleeping when we wished, and playing the game known as cyvasse before the fireplace. We did not kiss again, but we did practice bringing Lyra’s thoughts into mine. She could not yet decipher words or concepts, but did pick up emotions. I felt very close to my sister.

I would have considered these days a welcome break from my duties, had I considered my duties onerous. I had few cares, truth be told: I had sisters and a mother who loved me, not just one but two loving sex partners, meaningful work, and challenging tasks. The only dark spot in my new life was my constant worry over the pending arrival of my husband in Westeros, eagerly seeking my death and the deaths of those who loved me. And I had little doubt that he would appear eventually.

When snow began to fall again, Lyra said we needed to leave before it became too deep for the horses to pull the sleigh back down the mountainside. They struggled all the same, and I wondered if I would have to carry Lyra or eat horsemeat again. I felt shame at my relief that none of my favorite horses had come along. I decided that whatever happened, we would not eat Ralf.

Lyra drove us safely down the mountainside, and we did not have to contemplate eating any dogs or horses. I felt happy to detect the familiar thoughts of Mormont Keep’s people, yet sad to not have my sister to myself. I crawled up next to her on the driver’s seat, almost tipping the sleigh onto its side.

“We will do this again?” I shouted into her ear.

“If the snows allow,” she shouted back.

“I love you!” I screamed into her ear. She tipped her head back and laughed.

Having returned to the Keep and put the sleigh and horses away, I directed Ralf into her dog-house and carried my small bundle of belongings to our chambers, where Beth and Tansy sat before the fire. They looked up as I entered and turned around on the wide seat to look first at each other, and then at me.

“You two have something to tell me?” I repeated Tansy’s question from some weeks before.

“I kissed Tansy,” my secret mistress said. “I got scared before we could do anything else.”

I sighed, like a princess. Unwilling to replay the rest of this scene, I stepped over to Beth, took her face in my hands and kissed her, playing my tongue over hers. I released her, and as she caught her breath I did the same to Tansy.

“Thank you for telling me. I have told you both: I do not mind what you do with one another. We are all sisters. But I think Beth would be wise to let me help her until she is fully comfortable. Also, she screams when she receives orgasm.”

“You’re a screamer?” Tansy asked, amused.

Beth turned very red, linking her freckles together.

“With Dejah, anyway.”

“Can’t blame you for that,” Tansy said. “I had to bite her to keep from screaming, the first time.”

“I should tell you both,” I continued, “that I kissed Lyra again, and she connected to my mind.”

“She read your thoughts?” Tansy asked.

“Briefly,” I said. “I have not felt such a connection since I left my home.”

“I’m more jealous of that than I was of you laying with Beth.”

I climbed over the back of the seat and sat between my sisters.

“Do not be jealous,” I said, pulling them close. Beth did so more easily than Tansy, who remained somewhat stiff. “We are all sisters, but we are all different.”

“I’m not even sure what it means,” Tansy said, “just that it had to have been very intimate, and something I can never share with you.”

“I do not know that this is true,” I said. “I have the strongest mental connection with Lyra of all my sisters, because I have spent more time in her thoughts than I have with the rest of you, many times over. But I have only have truly entered your thoughts while you received orgasm.”

“So you’re thinking I could do it too if I just come enough times?”

“I am eager to find out.”

That seemed to please Tansy, and she relaxed against me. As I had told her and others, we of Barsoom do not crave sex as much as people from this planet. If she wished to have sex with Beth Cassel, I would not feel deprived. But I very much wanted to feel the same level of intimacy with Tansy, and with Beth, that I had with Lyra if only for a moment – and had never experienced with John Carter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next episode, Dejah Thoris learns more about her lady-in-waiting.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris enjoys ice-skating.

Chapter Eight

With the help of Gendry and Melly, I began to build a model of The Twins out of blocks of wood. Gendry found a set of molds used to make toy soldiers, and cast a number of foot soldiers to represent the garrison and the attackers.

“What is this metal called?” I asked when he showed me the tiny troops.

“Lead,” he said. “It’s used to seal water and wine vessels, and to fashion water pipes.”

“I know this metal,” I said. “It is poisonous to humans, particularly when ingested, and can make them insane and also stupid.”

“The pipes coming down the mountain are fired clay,” Gendry said. “I’m fairly sure there are no lead water pipes on the island.”

“That is good,” I said. “I will ask Tansy to forbid lead seals on wine and water containers.”

“What about our toy soldiers?”

“Can you paint them? Green for ours, gray for theirs?”

“That’s easily done. With paint that doesn’t have lead in it.”

“You people put lead in paint?”

“It’s the newest thing,” he said. “It makes the colors vibrant.”

I put my head in my hands. The lead toys had been given to children for many generations. How had the people of this society managed to remain alive? Was this why I had observed so many stupid people?

“I will ask Tansy to ban lead paint as well. Do you know of any other uses?”

“Um . . .” he began, frightened of my reaction. “The shop behind ours made and repaired lead pipes. And they sold powdered lead to taverns and wine shops. It made the wine taste sweeter.”

I allowed my head to fall forward to crash onto the desk in front of me. I had ingested their sweet wine. In some regions they even gave it to children. Fortunately, Bear Island’s poverty made wine rare here.

“No more sweet wine,” I said, shaking my aching head. “I will speak to Tansy.”

“I think some of it’s sweet by nature.”

“I have no way here to test it,” I said. “I hope you like ale.”

“I do,” he said. “I even like spruce beer.”

“You are fortunate in your choice of drink.”

Gendry had pointed out a soft wood called “white pine” that artisans favored for wood carvings, and we used it to cut blocks to build our little castles and bridge. My Valyrian steel dagger went through it as though it were the disgusting but tasty edible gel known as “butter.” Using the map I had drawn and improved with Ser Hosteen’s information, we constructed a reasonable facsimile of the castles.

I asked Melly and some of the Mormont solders who had been at the Twins to examine the model and comment; they found it accurate but suggested a few minor changes. I was pleased with our work; I would make use of the model to plan our assault and then it would assist in training everyone for their roles.

Gendry lingered in my office after Melly and the soldiers left, closing the door behind them.

“Might I have a moment, princess?” he asked, rather diffidently.

“Always, Gendry. What is the problem?”

“This morning, um. I wanted to tell you before you heard it elsewhere. Because you always find out secrets.”

“I do. What have you done in secret?”

“Lain with Gilly.”

“My lady in waiting?”

“There’s no other.”

“Gendry, I am not happy. She is recently widowed and has a small child.”

“She came to my chambers before I awoke. I opened the door and she slipped inside. She said she’d seen me watching her, seen me looking at her . . . her . . .”

“Breasts.”

“Yes.”

“And were you?”

“I hadn’t thought she’d noticed.”

“Women always notice, Gendry. Trust me on this. You just glanced at mine.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“I am used to it,” I said. “Continue with your story.”

“She said she didn’t have to steal me, whatever that means, because I already wanted her. I was just wearing a robe and she yanked it open and then I was on my back and she was riding me and, well, there it is.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“I was surprised at first, but she pulled off her dress and she kissed me and, well, I kissed her back and then she was on her back and, well, yes I enjoyed it.”

“So you were both willing.”

“I’d had day-dreams about her, yes.”

“You mean you had stroked your sex organ while thinking of her naked.”

“Yes,” he admitted, his face turning red.

I sighed, one of my best princess sighs.

“Gendry. Gilly is my lady-in-waiting. She is the keeper of my secrets, and of my underwear. She is under my protection. Hurting her risks my wrath.”

“I know that. That’s why I only, well, you know.”

I did not wish to be angry with Gendry; it should not have surprised me that Gilly wanted sex, having done without it for some time now.

“Gilly is a healthy young woman, and sexually attractive. You are a healthy young man, and sexually attractive. Of course women wish you as a sex partner.”

“It’s kind of embarrassing, when they grab you.”

“Have there been others?”

I saw her in his thoughts. Asha Greyjoy. I should have suspected.

“Well, there was one. Your soldier, the one who was Iron Born.”

“Asha Greyjoy demanded sex from you.”

“She came into the bathhouse when I was alone at night after a long day at the forge, just minding my own business, letting the hot water work at my back and shoulders. She climbed in the tub with me and, well, rode me in the water until I couldn’t, um, perform any more.”

“How many times?”

“Just the one night. Five or six times, I think.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes. It was a little frightening, but exciting, too. She’s, well, not as pretty as the others and doesn’t have the, you know . . .”

He held his hands in front of his chest.

“Breasts. You like breasts.” Given that the discussion had summoned fantasies of firm freckled breasts into my own mind, I could not very well scold him for this.

“Right. And I do. But her energy. It was like nothing I’ve ever known. I feared someone would hear her; she kept howling every time she, well, you know.”

“Gendry. You are a man grown, and all of these women are adults. If you do not wish sex with them, you must say so. And if you do wish sex, you must ask politely and accept rejection without anger.”

“I understand.”

“I must tell you, there is one woman on this island who is completely out of bounds. Should you approach her, or fail to reject her approach, my wrath will know no limit.”

“Jory Mormont.”

“That would be correct.”

“I know better than to have anything to do with any of your sisters, or even, um, daydream about them.”

I shook my head, trying not to smile. I had been concerned about Gendry’s perverse attraction to Arya Stark, a mere child still years away from womanhood. It seemed that I no longer need worry about him on that account. At least he had been making love to adult women with actual breasts who were capable of choice, and obviously capable of receiving orgasm. Multiple times.

“Just remember, Gendry. This winter may last for years. You may have to be locked within this Keep with all four of these women for that entire time.”

He visibly shuddered.

“Thank you, princess. I will be more careful.” 

* * *

Beth had left at dawn to help Jory exercise horses in the pens outside the Keep, and Gilly brought us coffee and turnovers before taking Little Sam to work for the day in the children’s garden. She had lit a fire in a portable heating device known as a “brazier” and placed it and our treats on the balcony so Tansy and I could enjoy the rare clear day.

We settled into our comfortable chairs and propped our feet on the railing, and I told Tansy about Gendry’s visit. She snorted and began choking on her coffee, unable to stop laughing.

“Jeyne came to see me yesterday, too,” she finally spat out. “She’s afraid Gendry’s putting it in someone else and wanted to know if she had to put out if she wanted to keep him.”

“Put out?”

“To offer sex.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That she should only do what she felt absolutely comfortable doing,” Tansy said. “You know better than I how fucked up she is about sex, thanks to Littlefinger and Ramsay.”

“She is a good woman,” I said. I had long ago forgiven her for slapping me. “But she is still disturbed. I am not sure Gendry has enough control over his sexual urges to give her the slow, loving re-introduction to sex that she needs.”

“Like you did for Beth.”

“Yes,” I agreed, before thinking through my response. I decided to plunge ahead. “I was in her mind the entire time, careful lest any harmful memories return.”

“I’m glad it was you.”

“You are not jealous?”

“I was. A little. After she tried to take all of the blame, it was hard to stay angry and it made me feel bad to blame anyone. But she needed to eventually have healthy sex. You love her, and you can read her thoughts. There was no one better suited than you.”

“As I told you, I would not become upset if you two received orgasm from one another.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“This is all very strange to me,” I said, thinking again of Jeyne and also of Lyra. “We think of sex very differently. The true intimacy comes from the blending of our minds during sex, not the sex itself. We do not have sexual trauma the way you do.”

“It sounds like a much better place.”

“No,” I said. “Only different. A violent or cruel person can do a great deal of damage to someone else while their minds are connected. That is always true, but in normal times we have techniques to protect ourselves. During sex we lower those protections and can be extremely vulnerable.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. I can see what you mean. So you haven’t had that connection since you’ve been here. Other than with Lyra.”

“Yes, I achieved it briefly with Lyra when we went to the mountain lodge; her mind is the easiest for me to enter. It is more difficult to connect with yours but the feeling when you receive orgasm is powerful, almost more than I can stand.”

“Is that why you were drawn to her?”

“Possibly,” I said. “I had not considered that. I was drawn to you because you guarded your thoughts and it was not painful to be in your company. Lyra is beautiful and kind and friendly, but you are correct that I felt drawn to her for something beyond those reasons.”

“I’m glad my company’s not painful.”

“You are my first sister and you know how much I love you.”

“I do.”

“You also know that Beth and Gilly left us here alone deliberately.”

“I do.”

I held out my hand. She swung her leg across my lap, straddled me, placed both hands on my shoulders and kissed me. She wore one of the complicated dresses of these lands, with multiple layers secured by laces and buttons. It took a great deal of unwrapping before I freed her breasts.

As always, my breath caught slightly as I took them in my hands. In her days as an expensive prostitute known as a “courtesan,” my sister had referred to her breasts as “the finest tits in Westeros.” I still could only enter Tansy’s thoughts if she looked into my eyes and focused on me; I very much wanted to experience both making love to her breasts and feeling the sensations that she felt. She received orgasm three times, once through her breasts, once by my tongue and once by my hand, but I only received it myself the final time. She had not yet learned to lower the barriers around her thoughts. 

* * *

I continued planning for the assault on the Twins; I decided that we would follow Maege’s suggestion and only attack the castle on the eastern bank, where Walder Frey and his treasure were to be found. I would climb the wall with Beth, and we would drop ropes for others to follow. From there we would spread along the walls and eliminate all the guards there, and along the inner walls flanking the roadway to the bridge as well.

Once the tops of the walls were secure, we would assault the throne room; Ser Hosteen had revealed that Walder Frey eschewed his lordly chambers higher in the castle and slept in a small room adjacent to the throne room, as he did not like climbing stairs at his advanced age and believed it humiliating to be carried.

We had the option of bringing Manderly and Glover troops along. I did not intend for them to climb with us; in the final phase of the assault, we would open the gates to allow them inside and they could assist in rooting out the last of the Freys and destroying the castle.

Even after I had my plans formed, I still had reservations, and I asked Maege, Alysane and Lyra to join me in my office where I could show them my intentions on the model.

“It seems a sound plan,” Maege said when I had finished my presentation. “What gives you pause?”

“Our arrival,” I said. “The weather has grown even more harsh than when we journeyed to Winterfell. Asha Greyjoy is a competent navigator in icy waters and proved loyal on our adventure. And despite my having killed her brother, she now feels she owes me a life.

“Even so, I do not like our chances of arriving safely on the far shore. The Mormont captains and Asha Greyjoy feel our odds of success run from about six in ten for the most pessimistic Mormont sailor to nine in ten for Asha Greyjoy. Those are fair odds for gambling, far less fair for our lives. Should our ship be lost, House Mormont would lose five of its seven daughters and all of its trained soldiers. It would be a disaster.”

“You suggest delay?” Aly asked.

“I do,” I said. “We continue to train, but we make our assault when the weather has clearly turned to spring and our captains give us normal chances of safe arrival on the mainland. That would also allow us to deploy the Glover and Manderly soldiers.”

“That could be years away,” Lyra said.

“The Freys will still be there,” I countered. “I would not risk your life foolishly.”

Maege looked to Alysane and Lyra; both of my sisters nodded.

“We attack in the spring,” she said. “At the earliest date on which you feel confident.” 

* * *

I relaxed considerably once I knew that we would not be sailing again during Winter. Asha Greyjoy feigned disappointment, but even she did not wish to argue with the decision. For however long Winter lasted, Bear Island would be isolated.

Soon after the assault’s postponement, Pia came to visit me in my office, bringing a replacement for the black skirt ruined by the dragon’s sharp scales and a cascade of my blue blood. She had also made a black cape lined with green and a new matching tunic, with the Mormont bear over the left breast, a short left sleeve and a bare right shoulder and upper breast. I found it even more beautiful than the first version. I excitedly pulled off my brown dress to try on the new outfit, making Pia blush.

“You have seen many naked women,” I said. “Have you not?”

“I have, just, none like you, princess.”

“Something troubles you?”

“Can I ask you something? In private?”

“We are alone here.”

“I know,” she said. “You’ll keep it to yourself?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve been visiting Gendry and fucking him.”

“I know.”

“Figured you did. Does he love me?”

“No.”

She sighed, relieved.

“Good. He’s so pure-hearted, he thinks he really is a knight.”

“You know that he wishes to marry Jeyne Poole.”

“I thought he might.”

“If he does, you must cease the fucking.”

“I’d think that was up to him. If she has something better to offer, then she’ll keep him.”

Pia had the form that most men of this place considered desirable: large, heavy breasts and a fleshy but not fat body. Her new ivory teeth indeed had made her pretty again; she had blue eyes and wore her blond hair in the paired side-braids known as “pigtails.”

“You do not wish to cross me.”

“No,” she sighed, “I don’t. But I’ve been told who to fuck my entire life, treated like an unpaid whore.”

“As I am treating you now.”

“Not exactly,” she said. “You know, I hated you when we first met, and you humiliated Peck. He was using me like a toy, I see that now, but he didn’t deserve that.”

“I should not have left you with him.”

“That’s alright. I’m really grateful for all you’ve done for me since. But thanks to you I’m a woman of Bear Island now, and that means I get to decide who I fuck. If Gendry doesn’t want to stick his cock into me, then all he has to do is not stick his cock into me. It’s not that hard to understand. It’s a fine cock, but I’ll find another right soon enough. Or not.”

She had also had sex with Asha Greyjoy. But as she did not mention this aloud, neither did I.

“I apologize,” I said. “You are correct. Gendry must make his own decisions.”

“He said you’re like a mother to him,” Pia said. “I know you just wanted to protect him. But you can’t protect them forever.”

“You are wise.”

“I’m just a laundress with big tits.”

“That is an honorable thing to be.”

“Thank you,” she said, smoothing the skirt to check the fit of my new outfit. “This seems perfect on you.” 

* * *

Pia had taught me a valuable lesson, before I made a fool of myself. I would not meddle in others’ affairs here. My own were complicated enough. The women were unlikely to kill Gendry, though it would be a different story should he hurt Jeyne or Gilly badly enough to enrage my secret mistress.

And I had other, more important things to concern me. On the following morning, I awoke to find Little Sam bashing a wooden block against my head.

“Play!” he demanded. “Play now!”

“I’m so sorry, Princess,” his mother said, scurrying over to collect him. She had been stoking the fireplace and he must have slithered away. “I’ll stop him pestering you.”

“No,” I said. “Play is important.”

Leaving my sisters asleep, I slid out from the furs and pulled on one of our brown dresses. I found the wooden box with Little Sam’s blocks, and we constructed a castle in front of the fireplace. He only threw a block at my head once.

“Thank you, princess,” Gilly said when Little Sam had tired of me and waddled off to play on his own. “He’s not usually awake when I tend to your fire and clothes, and I have a moment for coffee before the real work starts.”

“I enjoyed it,” I said, joining her on the wide seat before the fireplace. She handed me a cup of coffee. “You do not mind the work?”

“I feel useful,” she said. “All of you work hard, too.”

While I did physical labor and trained soldiers, in many ways I remained a spoiled princess, leaving clothing scattered on furniture and dishes on every level surface in our chambers. Gilly made them all disappear. To my shame, I did not mention this.

“I understand,” I said instead. “I also feel useful. I did not when I was a princess. And I am glad to have a child nearby.”

“Does you have children?”

Only Gendry had ever asked me that here. I realized that few women of this place would ask; bearing children was such a fundamental part of their being that they volunteered the information soon after meeting someone. Since I did not do so, they assumed that I either had none or that they had died, and they pitied me. I could not recall anyone asking Tansy, either.

“Yes,” I said. “But we do not keep our children close to us.”

“Does you miss them?”

I decided to tell her the truth, even if it painted me as a monster.

“Only sometimes,” I said. “We do not care for them as you do, and so do not grow as attached.”

“But you carried them inside you.”

“We are not like you,” I said. “We do not carry our children inside us.”

“Oh,” she said. “I can’t imagine that. They feel like part of you ’cause, well, they was once. I love Little Sam, even though I didn’t carry him. You know that ’cause you know what I know. But I miss the ones I bore, so much I cry in the night sometimes.”

“You had more than one?”

“Craster raped me, soon as I flowered.” I understood this to mean the start of her bleeding, when she could bear children and was considered old enough for sex. “I had two boys that he gave to the Others. Then the one Jon Snow stole from me made three.”

I pulled her close to me, but she did not cry.

“I wish I’d stabbed Jon Snow myself. I’d have my boy and all the killing Jon Snow did later wouldn’t have gone on. Please don’t tell no one, about my boys or that I wanted to kill Jon Snow.”

“‘Lady-in-waiting’ means ‘keeper-of-secrets’,” I quoted her. “So does ‘princess’.”

“And I don’t want Little Sam to ever know I didn’t birth him.”

“I will say nothing,” I said. “But I cannot stop Val and the other Free Folk from talking.”

She nodded.

“You won’t tell no one about Gendry, neither?”

“I will not,” I said. I respected her for not apologizing. “And should you have another child, I will protect it as fiercely as I would my own.”

“I don’t know as I want another. Lady Maege says you takes your pleasure and takes your chances, and let the gods decide. I don’t know as I believe in gods any more than you do, but I’ll follow Lady Maege’s way. She’s been so good to me.”

“She values you greatly, as do all of the Mormonts.”

“A lot of the people here have sussed out that I’m of the Free Folk, and they hate me for it.”

“You are my lady-in-waiting,” I repeated. “And I am your princess. And that is how it is. To harm you is to harm me. My sisters treat you well?”

“Oh yes, princess. They’s been nothing but kind. Even the nasty little one.”

She paused, drinking more coffee.

“How many children does you have?”

“Two,” I said, deciding not to explain that many had died and others had never been known to me. “A son and a daughter. Both are married now.”

“You doesn’t look that old,” Gilly said, “’cept for your eyes. They’s seen a lot.”

“We live much longer lives than your people.”

“How many years has you?”

“You are my keeper of secrets.”

“That’s right.”

“Eight hundred and two.” I believe this to be correct; I had lived for 441 of Barsoom’s much longer years when I arrived here.

“Hope I’m still pretty when I’m eight hundred and two,” she said. “Or even two-and-twenty.”

“How old are you, Gilly?”

“I don’t rightly know,” she said. “I guess seven-and-ten, or maybe eight-and-ten.”

“You are still a girl,” I said. I had thought of her as a woman, but she was no more than a year older than Jory, if that.

“I was never a girl,” she said. “You grows up fast north of the Wall. Or you doesn’t grow up at all.” 

* * *

The heavy snows and constant storms made it difficult to exercise, and I had the Mormont soldiers clear one of the unused barracks for use as an indoor training area. We practiced with swords there every morning, and performed the ritual exercises as well. I did not wish to become fat over the winter. The soldiers worked there throughout the day; I made sure everyone had a daily turn.

I continued to train with Beth and Lyra; the three of us formed the backbone of the island’s defenders and we needed to be at peak performance at all times. I also worked with Alysane, Maege, Jory and Gilly, teaching my lady-in-waiting to wield a knife effectively and also hand-to-hand defense. She had a fierce spirit worthy of Bear Island, but had almost been killed by Val. I would not see my friend lose her life through lack of training that I could easily provide.

While Alysane had been taught the sword, she had never been expected to serve as a warrior – that was the role of Dacey and Lyra. She was not nearly as naturally gifted as Lyra, so I worked with her on fighting with a shield and short sword, which she preferred to the two-handed style followed by my fighting sisters and I. Maege had long wielded a mace and a shield; we have similar weapons on Barsoom but their use is relatively rare as they do not fit into the social customs surrounding a bladed weapon.

I had much less to teach my adoptive mother, and worked on her balance and footwork; the strong swings the weapon demanded also left its wielder open to a counter-stroke. She bore the scars of several of these, and took my instruction very seriously as a result.

“I’m getting too old for this,” she said heavily, sitting beside me after a morning session.

“How old are you?” I asked, my conversation with Gilly still fresh in my mind.

“Four-and-forty,” she said, in the odd cadence these people used for their ages, but not usually for other numbers. “Had my first babe when I was five-and-ten.”

“You have fought even longer than that.”

“It’s true,” she said. “Killed a wildling when I had but ten years. Led troops in battle when I turned twenty. Now I’ve handed it over to you.”

“You remain a formidable warrior.”

“And a wise one,” she said. “Wise enough to leave the fighting to you.”

On the practice area, Beth and Jory continued to spar with wooden swords. Beth had surpassed Lyra and become a deadly fighter, and while Jory was no match for Beth my little sister had developed skills beyond those of the other Mormont women warriors except perhaps Asha, and most of the men.

We watched them for a few moments.

“And,” she said, “you come with a price.”

I looked at her, trying to put the question in my expression.

“If you fight,” Maege went on, nodding at Jory, “she doesn’t.”

“That is my preference.”

“It’s the Mormont tradition that we all fight,” she said. “But you ask me for very little. Dacey looked after her, too. Assign Jory where you will.”

Fierce weather had also robbed me of my favorite times with my little sister. She remained unaware that my relations with Tansy and Beth had become sexual, but realized that I had sent Beth away from Winterfell chiefly to watch over Jory and our little sister felt shame for not standing by her elder sisters when the dragons came.

I found her in the stables brushing my mare, with Ralf lounging at her feet. I took up a brush and joined her.

“I have missed our rides,” I said. “Will we be able to do so again before Winter ends?”

“It’s not safe, for us or them.”

“How will I spend time with my little sister?”

“I’ll show you.”

Jory directed me to dress warmly, and when I re-joined her in the entry hall she carried two pairs of unusual boots with metal blades fitted to the bottom of each.

“They’re called skates,” she said. “You stand on them and . . .”

“Glide across the ice,” I finished. “We have something like these on our world.”

Outside the keep, a small body of water known as a “pond” had been swept clean of snow, and several people already glided about it on their metal blades. We put on our bladed boots and took to the ice; I found my balance after a few falls and eventually began to glide with Jory around the pond.

My little sister had expected me to be ungainly, and I reveled in her shock at my skill. This was not the same as swimming. I loved the feel of this “skating,” and soon learned to do so at speed. I raced Jory around the pond, but soon more people began to put on metal blades and join us, and I feared crashing into them and injuring them.

The skaters included several of the House Guard soldiers, who began to erect a pair of wooden frames, one at either end of the pond, with fish nets strung over the frames.

“What are they building?” I asked Jory.

“There’s a game today,” she said. “The garrison is playing the fishermen.”

We have sports on Barsoom, but I had not been aware that adults played many games in these lands. Those I had encountered seemed limited to horse races and mock-combat displays, but once again, Bear Island ways differed from the mainland. We watched as the two teams skated around carrying long, curved sticks they used to move a small round object Jory explained was known as a “puck.”

“I would like to watch this,” I said.

“All right,” said my little sister. “But I’m getting cold standing here in one place.”

We replaced our bladed boots with our usual footwear, and I opened my heavy fur cloak to pull Jory inside. I enjoyed her closeness, she enjoyed my excess body heat, and I had enough height advantage to watch the players over the top of her head.

The players skated very fast, but had trouble passing the “puck” as swiftly; a scan of their thoughts showed that they believed themselves too long out of practice. They expected to improve with more play. I enjoyed the game; it had a great deal of strategy, I saw, and a good deal of violence which I also liked. Players who objected to being hit in what they considered an improper fashion threw off their heavy gloves and pounded one another with their fists. I saw, and approved, that my soldiers simply punched the fisher-folk and did not use the deadly hand-to-hand techniques I had taught them.

“How do they know this game?” I asked. “And how did you know about skating?”

“What do you mean?”

“This pond has not frozen for many years.”

“Oh, but it has. We get summer snows that bring enough cold to freeze the pond.”

“How long do they last?”

“Not long. Three turns of the moon, sometimes.”

As long as a normal season for this planet should last, if I had calculated correctly. I would need to investigate these summer snows and add this information to my paper on weather.

The soldiers won the game, putting the puck in the net four times while the fishermen only did so twice. I cheered for these “goals,” but Jory cautioned me not to cheer for the fights, even though I found them more interesting and exciting than the skating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next episode, the Mormonts cross the sea in anger.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah's little sister experiences a change in her life.

Chapter Nine

As a privileged member of Bear Island’s ruling family, I knew that I would have plenty to eat all through the winter. Family tradition, fully enforced by Maege, demanded that we never exploit the island’s people and that we share their deprivations. Yet we lived in a castle, had private access to a bathhouse, horses and a hunting lodge among other luxuries, and the services of a small troop of servants. We shared in the labor, and shared in the shortages, but we did not fully partake of either.

Even so, my life on Bear Island bore little resemblance to that I had known on Barsoom. Bear Island had a population of some 25,000; the city of Helium alone numbered millions with over 75 million people within its Empire not counting the bands of semi-savage Tharks roaming the dry seabeds. My home city disposed of technology that my new family would consider magical.

Yet I felt loved and valued for the first time in my very long life, at least valued as something other than a key piece in my planet’s version of the game of thrones. Tansy and Beth had opened their minds to allow me to share their orgasm, something John Carter had never attempted or even acknowledged as possible. Maege had at first seen me as a living weapon to help slake her thirst for vengeance, but now truly loved me as a daughter. Lyra loved me as no one other than Thuvia ever had, and in Jory I had the little sister I never knew that I needed.

The island’s winter isolation made me happy: the broader world, and John Carter, could have no impact on my life while the seas raged and the snow fell in massive sheets. Part of me hoped that Winter truly would last for many years. Perhaps then John Carter would forget Daenerys as he had forgotten me, and forget his thirst for vengeance as well. On some nights I left our chambers and stayed with Lyra; we knelt before the fire or cuddled in her bed and worked to share our thoughts. In my absence, Tansy and Beth finally received orgasm from one another.

I continued to kneel before the white tree with Lyra; at Mormont Keep the believers went outside the walls to visit a grove on the mountainside behind the wooden fortress. Gilly began to join us on occasion though like me she did not actually pray; I enjoyed her companionship. She also partook of our morning exercises, though she left us along with Tansy when we began sword work.

“Can you drive a sleigh?” Lyra asked Beth one morning as we dressed after our sword exercises. We had worked while wearing ringed armor, the padding that went beneath it and wide strips of cloth to bind our breasts in place. While I would not have objected to stripping off these layers in the exercise area, Lyra insisted that we do so in a private chamber. At least we had coffee.

“My father taught me during a summer snow,” Beth answered. “It’s not that hard if you’ve driven horses on a cart or carriage. I’ve done it a handful of times here: moving firewood, fetching fish from the port, things like that. Why do you ask?”

“Have you been able to feel Dejah’s thoughts when you two . . . you know?”

“A little,” Beth said, blushing slightly. “It doesn’t bother you? The ‘you know’ part?”

“A little,” Lyra smiled. “You know I’ve been working with Dejah. And it’s exhilarating. If you and I could both feel her thoughts in battle . . .”

“We would fight with one mind,” Beth nodded. “So you’re encouraging me to fuck our sister?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“What does that have to do with driving a sleigh?”

“You know about the hunting lodge. I think you should drive Dejah and Tansy there for a few days.”

“What about you?”

“The three of us can work in our chambers here when you return. Tansy deserves some time with the two of you.”

“Do you want me in your mind when we are not engaged in sex?” I asked Beth. Lyra looked away, trying not to laugh.

“She’s right,” Beth answered. “We’re a formidable team now. Acting as one mind, your mind, would make us unstoppable.”

“Any warrior can be stopped,” I said. “Or killed. But I agree that such coordination would make it less likely that we would be among those killed.

“This will take a great deal of practice,” I warned. “My connection with both of you has been in nearly-perfect conditions, with little to distract our concentration.”

“I think there’s been plenty of distractions,” Beth snorted. Lyra shoved her shoulder.

“I am very serious,” I continued. “So far, we have done this for enjoyment. And it has been enjoyable. But now we must learn to make the connection without taking any attention from battle, with the sounds and smells of fighting and death all around us. You will not be able to stare into my eyes for focus.”

“That won’t be easy,” Lyra said, realizing what her suggestion truly involved. “You’re talking about a very lengthy period.”

“Yes,” I said. “But I crave that sort of closeness with each of you. It is very lonely in my own mind; it is difficult to describe, but it feels as though I have not heard real speech in the years since my arrival here. And you are correct about the advantages it will bring us in battle.”

I paused to drink my coffee before it became cold.

“You both know how much I love you.”

Lyra and Beth both nodded; it thrilled me to see Beth do so without hesitation. A year before, she would have argued the point.

“But you’ve never felt it. Not the way my people feel it. I want to experience that with you both. And Tansy as well. You have both had a small taste. I assure you that this taste is as nothing next to the true feast of emotion.”

I was proud of my metaphor, and pleased that neither of my sisters laughed at it. 

* * *

When the weather appeared to have cleared somewhat, we loaded a sleigh with food, furs and warm clothing and I headed to the hunting lodge with Beth and Tansy. Ralf did not come along this time, as Beth remained deeply uncomfortable around dogs, but Tansy’s raven joined us, riding in the sleigh rather than trying to fly in the blowing snow. Beth drove the sleigh and I cuddled with Tansy under a pile of furs; the bird perched on a small cask of ale and peered over the edge of the sleigh.

“Do they know?” Tansy asked me.

“That we three are lovers?”

“Yes.”

“Some suspect,” I answered. “Few care. Maege, Lyra and Aly know, and love us still. A few of the soldiers guess, but care little. And Gilly knows, but she is our keeper of secrets.”

“Even on Bear Island, we take a great risk. They call it forbidden love for a reason.”

“If you had doubts,” I said, “then you should not have given me orgasm.”

“Strictly speaking, I didn’t, you just fed off of mine.”

“Do you wish to stop?”

“No. Not in the least.”

Beth rested the horses at the same spot Lyra had chosen, and we climbed out of the sleigh to stretch and perform our exercises.

“There’s no one within miles,” Beth asked, “is there?”

“Of the lodge?” I responded. She nodded. “I do not believe so.”

“Good. Then I’m not stifling my screams.”

“You will not be able to stifle them,” I promised.

Smiling, she climbed back onto the sleigh and we resumed our journey.

At the lodge, I went inside while Beth and Tansy took care of the horses. All seemed as Lyra and I had left it; the hypocaust made the interior pleasantly warm. I moved the handful of belongings and the food and ale we had brought from the sleigh into the lodge. I pulled off my furs, leggings and tunic, built a fire in the large rock-lined fireplace, and settled onto the bearskin before it while I awaited my sisters.

I awoke to find lips on each of my breasts; Tansy and Beth sprawled alongside me on either side, giving me pleasure with their tongues. I started to rise but Tansy placed her hand on my upper chest and pressed me back down; I lay there and moaned, enjoying the sensations.

My lovers moved to one another, with a long series of kisses that soon included me as well. I felt their excitement, and though I could not match it, I became as aroused as is possible for a woman of my people, and perhaps somewhat more. I watched Tansy’s tongue flick across Beth’s freckled breast even as I felt the sensation rise in Beth’s thoughts. My breath caught, and I saw through Beth’s eyes that the skin of my face and upper chest had darkened, our equivalent of their flushing. I joined Tansy in pleasuring Beth, tracing her freckles with my tongue.

When we finally settled onto the bearskin to rest, I had received orgasm four times, twice through each of my lovers. Beth lay on her side between Tansy and I, and I pressed myself against her scarred back, reaching over her to place my hand over her right breast. She snuggled tightly against me, and I looked over her at Tansy, my elbow resting on the bearskin and my head on my left hand.

“You saw into my thoughts?” Tansy asked.

“It is becoming easier,” I said. “But you still have barriers in place.”

“You seemed to get past them just fine when I came.”

“Twice,” I said. “Did I mention that I love you?”

“I think you screamed out something like that.”

“You both were screaming,” I said. “I did not wish to be left out.”

“Dejah,” Beth said, turning to look at me, “can you connect all three of us together? Could I feel Tansy, too?”

“You felt me?”

“I did.”

I considered her question.

“It’s in the interests of _science_ ,” Tansy added, helpfully.

Still excited by orgasm, Tansy’s thoughts were easier to enter than I had previously experienced.

“We will try,” I said. “Kiss Beth, look into her eyes. I will try to enter both of your thoughts at once, and bring them into mine. That may open your thoughts to one another.”

“Should I bring her off?” Tansy asked. She asked whether she should give Beth orgasm.

“Her screams are distracting,” I said. “Look into her eyes, concentrate on her, on your love for her.”

“And I do the same?” Beth asked. “What about you?”

“I will be here, nestled behind you with my hand on your breast.”

“That helps with the mind-connecting?”

“Probably not,” I admitted. “But I enjoy touching your breasts.”

“I’ve noticed. Are you ready?”

She did not wait for an answer, leaning forward to kiss Tansy instead. I entered Beth’s mind first, and looking through her eyes into Tansy’s, entered our sister’s as well. This time I felt little resistance. She loved Beth, she loved me, and she loved the feel of Beth’s bare skin against hers.

I felt Beth’s thoughts enter mine, the first time I had clearly felt her in my mind, and then a whisper of Tansy’s. Beth’s body began to shudder as she received orgasm; she tried to scream but Tansy did not release her kiss. I felt Tansy receive orgasm as well, and the hormone release took over my own body. I felt the muscles spasm along the length of my legs, to my toes.

I buried my face in the back of Beth’s neck, noticing the sharp scent of pine trees in her hair – all of my senses had become heightened. I released her breast lest I injure her, and dug my fingers into the fur of the bearskin. And then, for how long I could not determine, I had no thoughts at all. 

* * *

The fire had burned to coals when my senses returned. I remained nestled against Beth, with my hand now on Tansy’s flank. Both of my sisters appeared to breathe normally, and as I entered their thoughts I saw that they had been awake for some time, talking in whispers.

“If we attempt this again,” I said aloud, “we are likely to die.”

Beth rolled over to look at me, pulled my face to hers and kissed me deeply.

“Then that’s how I want to go,” she said when she released me. She looked at me more closely. “You’re serious.”

“Yes,” I said. “We have a term for it, ‘return-feeding,’ when a signal is passed back and forth, becoming stronger each time. I believe I lost consciousness and the connection was broken before your minds could be damaged. But you could have been badly injured.”

“Become mad?” Tansy asked.

“Possibly. Or have no thoughts beyond basic functions like breathing.”

“Become drooling idiots?”

“Yes.”

“So what do we do about it?”

“We can have sex together safely,” I said. “I will only enter the thoughts of one of you at a time.”

“Whoever’s coming, you mean,” Tansy smiled.

“I enjoy receiving orgasm,” I said.

“Even after . . . that?”

“In these matters, I am but an egg. You have not had more intense orgasm?”

“Never,” she said. “Not even close. And what just happened was with, or not with, anything except kissing.”

“And the thought connection,” Beth said. “Dejah said it could be more intense than actual sex.”

Now I leaned forward and kissed her.

“I am glad you are unhurt,” I said. “I will take no further chances with your sanity.”

“Slide over,” Tansy told Beth, who nimbly rolled across me, then nestled against my back with her hand on my breast, the position I had occupied earlier. Tansy kissed me.

“Thank you,” she said. “Once was enough, but I’m glad we tried it. To feel you love me, both of you love me . . . I don’t think anyone’s ever felt that. Ever. Not on this world, anyway.”

“You could feel Beth?”

“I think so.”

“I felt Tansy,” said Beth’s voice, muffled by the bearskin as she drifted into sleep. “I don’t think I’ll ever walk again.”

I remained entangled with Tansy, slowly and gently kissing, until she also fell asleep and I with her. 

* * *

Over the following days, we rarely left the bearskin. I had never engaged in sex to this extent, and found it difficult to concentrate on anything else. I wondered if I would ever wish sex with a man again, and how I would muster the will to return to Mormont Keep.

When not making love, we ate well, bathed several times each day, and played Jetan before the fire. Braden the carver had made a very fine ivory set of pieces for this board game of Barsoom, and I had taught my sisters how to play. We performed our daily exercises, but we did not engage in ice-fishing.

Eventually, we had to return to our home. On the morning of our third and final full day at the lodge, I walked to the stable with Beth to tend to the horses. She stopped, crouched and pulled off her glove to rub some of the snow between the tips of her fingers.

“I’m no expert,” she said, her voice even huskier than usual from repeated screams. “But the snow looks wetter. Heavier. Like it does at the end of a summer snow.”

“You believe it will soon melt?”

“I don’t know. But it’s possible.”

We spent most of the day naked together, and I remained careful to keep my sisters from becoming trapped in a telepathic feedback loop – the term I had not managed to translate for them. Over three days I had engaged in more sex than I would have in a year or more on Barsoom, and my entire body sang with the after-effects of orgasm.

“Are you capable of driving?” I asked Beth on the following morning as we prepared the sleigh and horses.

“Barely,” she said. “I can’t walk in a straight line but I think I can manage driving.” 

* * *

Spring announced itself with still more storms soon after our return to Mormont Keep, but they had a different feel to them, which Asha Greyjoy confirmed.

“Warmer air coming up from the south,” she told me as I scanned the skies after morning training. “Once we see rain instead of snow, I think you can say that winter is ending.”

“You know this?”

“I’ve asked around. But the pattern’s the same anywhere around Westeros, it just happens later this far north.”

“We will be able to sail soon?”

“Give it one moon’s turn to be sure.”

I went to see Maege, who I found kneading bread dough with Hot Pie. Even Lady Mormont took her turn performing meaningful work; it amused me to see the easy friendship that had somehow grown between the Lady of Bear Island and the plump young pastry cook. I told her what Asha had predicted.

“Do you still wish me to carry out this assault?” I asked as Hot Pie handed me a rolling pin.

“Absolutely,” Maege said. “I have awaited this day since the first of our men staggered into Greywater Watch with news of the massacre.”

“You risk five of your daughters.”

“One of whom is you,” she said. “That makes it far less of a risk.”

“You know that I would die for any of them.”

“I know,” she said. “I’d prefer that you didn’t. Losing one daughter was enough for one lifetime. I believe it’s time to send ravens to our allies.”

“I shall go see Jory and ask her to write and send the messages.”

“Princess,” Hot Pie called as I exited his bakery. “After you kill those folk, be sure you come back safe.”

Jory wrote out the messages as I asked, to Ser Davos, Ser Marlon and Lord Glover. She also wrote to Jojen Reed of Greywater Watch, asking if he would aid us in an effort he surely knew would come. And she drew a bear and sent the picture to Queenscrown to alert our Free Folk allies. 

* * *

An odd craft came into our small port a few days later, what Lyra told me was called a “whaleboat” – large enough to carry a mast and sail, but not large enough to be classed as a “ship.” I did not understand why the difference between ships and boats mattered so to the people of the sea, but I knew from Ser Davos that they took the distinction very seriously. I never figured out what actually defined a ship and a boat.

The boat/ship brought Jojen Reed, now Lord of Greywater Watch following his father’s death, and a crew of the short swamp people. A guard brought word of his unexpected arrival and we hastened to put on our Mormont surcoats and greet him at the gates of the Keep. Alysane and Lyanna were in the bathhouse but Lyra, Beth, Jory, Tansy and I lined up alongside Maege for the formal greetings.

“You knew I would come,” he said when he reached me at the end of the line; officially I was the youngest of the Mormont daughters.

“I had hopes that your sight would inform you of our plans, and our need for your aid in carrying them out.”

“You saved my life,” he said. “And I’d offer assistance for that reason alone. But your cause is just. I’m not truly comfortable with the idea, but I know how deeply it matters to your family. I’ve come to discuss your needs.”

Though Jojen Reed had matured since I last saw him, he still affected a grave manner in hopes of being taken more seriously. This apparently had become more pronounced since his assumption of the lordship of House Reed.

“There will be a welcoming feast,” Maege said, “but that’s some hours away if you’d like to meet with Dejah after visiting the baths.”

“I . . . yes, thank you.”

He had hoped to find an excuse to ask my little sister Jory to give him a tour of the Keep. She wore tight-fitting black without a surcoat, and he struggled not to stare at the outline of her breasts or to become visibly aroused at the sight.

I scanned her thoughts; she found Jojen Reed interesting, and noted how he had grown into young manhood since we last saw him on the road to Winterfell.

“I have a map and a model of the Twins,” I told Jojen Reed. “But I need a little time to gather them. Perhaps my sister Jory could first show you Mormont Keep?”

“I would like that,” he said, looking at me curiously. I had not known if his father had shared knowledge of my thought-reading ability with him; apparently Howland Reed had not but Jojen suspected. “I would like that very much.”

Maege looked at me and smiled, knowing that I kept both the map and model on my desk in the Guard barracks, ready for use at any time. Jojen Reed offered my little sister his arm and they went to see our wooden castle; Lyra accompanied me to the barracks as we dispersed to our duties.

“She likes him,” she said, as much question as statement.

“Yes,” I said. “And he is quite taken with her breasts.”

“She’s found her first?”

“Perhaps,” I said. “He is too young?”

“I believe he’s six-and-ten now,” Lyra said. “A year younger than Jory.”

“It is acceptable, under the Mormont Way, to have sex with an outsider here on the island?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “There haven’t been many outsiders here since you found us, but that’s actually the more usual method.”

“You have had a man inside you here on the island?”

“Right over there in that grove,” she said, pointing to a group of trees. “And a few other spots. And the inn. And a ship moored in the harbor. And one of the linen closets.”

“Not your chambers?”

“No, that’s private. My sisters can join me there, but no stranger.”

We had reached my office, and took chairs behind the desk. The map and model were already in place.

“Are you worried about Jory?” I asked.

“No,” Lyra said. “You are, aren’t you?”

“I am,” I said, as Gilly opened the door and laid a tray bearing a coffee urn and cups on the side of my desk. “I know the first time is very intense.”

“For Lady Jory?” Gilly asked, sitting on my other side and pouring coffee. I nodded.

“I hated it,” she said. “I didn’t even know it was rape. Sam didn’t know what he was doing but he cared about me. Jory’ll be fine. The young lord seems gentle.”

“You’ve had a better time here?” Lyra asked, smiling. “With men?”

“I have,” Gilly said. “They’s some who hates me for being of the Free Folk, but no one who’d dare to hurt me, knowing you two would kill them on the spot. And I like being the one doing the choosing.”

“Gilly has it right,” Lyra said to me. “Outside of Bear Island, most women are forced their first time, even the ones who somehow hold out for marriage. It’s supposed to be _fun_. Not another way to hurt you.”

A soft knock on the door interrupted Gilly’s response, and we all rose to greet Jojen Reed and Jory as they entered. They seemed more at ease with one another.

“I trust you had a pleasant tour?” Lyra asked.

“Very much so,” Jojen told her. “I’d heard a great deal about Mormont Keep, and had long wished to see it.”

He exaggerated out of politeness, but did not actually lie.

“This is Lady Gilly,” Lyra went on, “lady-in-waiting to my sisters and I.”

Jojen walked over to take her hand and kiss it.

“Your husband stood with my father when he died,” he said. “I’d hoped to meet you, Lady Gilly.”

She smiled, and dipped her knees slightly, her best approximation of the silly “curtsey” move.

“You doesn’t have to call me that,” she said. “I’m just Gilly.”

“Perhaps among friends,” he said. “But I’d wish for others to see me honor you.”

“Jojen,” I said, “I am sorry for your father’s death, and regret that I did not come to Greywater Watch to tell you in person and deliver his remains.”

“I’m sure you had many things on your mind.” He was not pleased with me.

“Princess had to take care of me,” Gilly interrupted. “She sent me away with her sister to guard me, her sister Beth who’s just deadly with a sword, and came straight to Deepwood to tell me to my face what happened. She’s been nothing but good to me and my son since.”

“I’m sorry,” Jojen said, his thoughts and expression clearing. “That’s exactly what you should have done, Princess.”

“Might I show you our plans?” I asked. “And describe our requests of House Reed?”

“Please.”

I showed him the model castle, and described my intentions for the attack. He nodded, not truly following the tactics but trusting in my abilities.

“So you’ll need guides, drivers, sledges and draft animals?” he asked. “And we will need to feed and house your forces as they gather?”

“Yes.”

“What about fighting men?”

“I believe we have sufficient,” I said. “But I will not turn away more. Professionals, not levies.”

“I understand,” he said. “We have about 150 men in the House Guard. You may take half of them. Most of them fought with you, and would probably sneak away to help if I didn’t grant permission. And we’ll provide the other things you need.”

“That is far more than I expected,” I said. “Thank you.”

“No Reed men were present at the Red Wedding,” he said. “But the attack was an affront all the same. And the Freys have made a habit of murdering crannog men and women when they can.”

“Our mission will bring problems for your house.”

“No more than we face now. Perhaps fewer. The Freys have long posed a danger to us.”

He did not fully approve of our plan to kill all Freys, but knowing that Jory wished it, he did not speak his reservations aloud.

“If you will excuse me,” he said, “I should bathe and rest before the feast tonight.”

He bowed to each of us, including Gilly, and left us.

“You have chosen Jojen Reed as your first?” I asked Jory.

“Yes,” Jory said, having grown used to my direct speech. “I’ll go to his chambers tonight.”

“Does he know this?” I responded.

“Not yet,” she said, smiling. “I’ll dress so’s to make my purpose clear.”

Lyra proceeded to advise our little sister on seductive clothing and sexual techniques, with Gilly adding a few suggestions of her own; my lady-in-waiting surprised me with her knowledge.

“I learned a lot since coming here,” she told me, seeing my interest. “Only right to pass it on.”

“You will also be his first,” I said to Jory.

“Lucky boy,” Gilly said.

“I’ve never been anyone’s first,” Lyra said. “I hear they finish . . . quickly.”

“That’s true,” Gilly said, drawing a stare from Lyra. “Well, I was Sam’s. And Gendry’s.”

I did not correct her misunderstanding.

“You did Gendry?” Lyra asked. “Does Dejah know?”

“She knows everything about everyone and hasn’t killed me yet.”

“I would never harm you,” I said. “You are my lady-in-waiting, and I am your princess.”

“I think she was jesting, Dejah,” Lyra said, smiling.

My sister and my friend decided to dress Jory in a loosely-knit white shawl that draped to her knees; usually one wore other clothing beneath it but instead she would wear nothing else and hide it beneath a cloak. It is not the way of Barsoom to entice by showing only glimpses of flesh, but I understood how this could be alluring. I watched and listened to the remainder of the conversation, but had little advice to offer. 

* * *

I had not yet attended a true feast at Mormont Keep; we had been welcomed to the island by outdoor feasting but I had never seen the Great Hall filled with tables and decorations. Members of the garrison and people from the town filled the tables along with the small crew of the Reed ship/boat; the chieftains of the nearby holdfasts joined us but most of these men and women could not make it on such short notice.

While Tansy and Gilly wore simple dresses of a matching green shade with a small Mormont bear emblem, Beth and I dressed in the black two-piece outfits Pia had made for us, including our green-lined capes. We were beautiful in them; I knew that we would make an impression.

As the youngest Mormont daughter, at least officially, I took a place at one of the lower tables across from Beth and Gilly. Tansy, as the House’s so-called “Hand,” sat with Maege as did Aly and Lyra. I saw that Lyanna and Jory had also been placed among the soldiers and townspeople. To my delight, young Jolie Mormont took her place next to me, the first official function attended by Alysane’s daughter. Lord Tycho sat on my other side.

This time Beth moved her hands between the dishes and utensils slowly and deliberately so that both Gilly and I could watch and imitate her. The meal included roasted sheep, steamed lobsters and fresh bread – with winter coming to a close, Maege had ordered the larders opened and people ate their fill for the first time in several months. Jolie sat very primly, trying to be a proper lady, but giggled when I crushed lobster shells in my fingers for her and my other companions.

I had removed my cape to sit and eat, and noticed that Beth had done the same, even though her two-piece outfit revealed the scars on her lower back. She sat calmly across from me, and I detected no stares or attention paid to her ruined skin, only appreciation for her beauty.

“You will leave soon?” Lord Tycho asked me.

“I believe so,” I said. “We must give our friends on the mainland some extra time to prepare and to march, and then we will sail.”

“Lady Jeyne and I can manage,” he said, “but please hurry back. I’m eager to start our investment program, and Lady Tansy needs to be here for that.”

“Any other reasons?”

“You’re taking Asha with you,” he said. “And beyond that, I’ve become very comfortable here.  It just feels better, it feels right, when all of the Mormonts are home.” 

* * *

In our chambers, Beth and I sat on the broad seat before the fire and watched Gilly, Tansy and Lyra prepare Jory. They bathed her with soft cloths dipped in a basin of warm, scented water and dressed her in the white shawl. Our sisters and Gilly seemed to be enjoying themselves greatly, giggling like small girls.

“You are distressed?” I quietly asked Beth. She leaned against me to answer.

“Some,” she said, also quietly. “I was just wishing that I had been introduced to it this way, and not . . . with what happened.”

“That was not sex,” I said. “That was assault, violent assault. _I_ introduced you to sex.”

“So you did,” she said. “And I love you for it.”

“If you wished to dress like that,” I said, “I would not mind.”

“Only if you play dress-up as well.”

Jory walked over to us before I could answer; we both stood and smiled at our little sister.

“I’m excited,” Jory said. “And frightened. You’ll be there, in my thoughts?”

“Are you sure you wish this? It is a very private moment.”

I also feared how my body would react if she received orgasm while I was connected to her thoughts.

“I’ve nothing to hide from you,” she said. “I’ll feel better knowing my big sister is there.”

“I do not know that this is a good idea.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know,” I said. “But this is something you must do on your own. If you do not wish to, then do not do so. There is no reason that you must.”

“No, I must. At least tell me that he’s alone.”

I concentrated and quickly found Jojen Reed’s thoughts.

“He is alone.”

“What’s he doing?”

“Touching his sex organ, while he imagines kissing your breasts.”

“Then I’d best be going.” 

* * *

Jory returned to our chambers late in the night and slid into the bed next to me without waking our sisters.

“I’m a woman now,” she whispered. “A sore woman, but a woman.”

“You are well?”

“It hurt, just like Lyra said it would. And I bled.”

“Did you receive orgasm?”

“No. I don’t think so, anyway. It wasn’t bad. I’d like to try it again, to try riding instead of being ridden.”

I understood her to refer to sexual positions; neither of those are workable for my people.

“He kissed your breasts?”

“Ceaselessly.”

Beth awoke and slid across to nestle Jory between us. Tansy moaned, still in dream sleep, and smacked the top of my head with her arm.

“You are still my little sister,” I said. “Even now that you are a woman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next chapter, Dejah Thoris prepares for battle.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris of House Mormont sets out on a course of vengeance.

Chapter Ten

In the morning I joined Alysane and Maege for coffee and First Meal, to discuss arrangements for defending Bear Island in the absence of both myself and the full-time House Guard. We would summon two hundred of the so-called levies I had trained, and I would leave selected members of the Guard to serve as their officers.

One of those soldiers interrupted us to tell Maege that Jojen Reed desired an immediate audience, calling it an emergency situation. Maege told him to allow the young lord to join us, and we rose from the table as he entered Maege’s private dining chamber.

“Lady Mormont,” he said, bowing formally. “Lady Alysane. Princess Dejah.”

“Lord Reed,” Maege answered. “You had a matter of great import to discuss?”

“I . . . if we could speak alone.”

“I share all with my daughters,” Maege said. “And I suspect that you know it is fruitless to exclude the Princess.”

He looked at me, and flushed a very deep red.

“I . . . I did, and hadn’t fully considered that.”

He looked at the floor and fidgeted, moves I understood to be typical of those in the age range between childhood and adult years. His deep-voiced, slow-speaking affectations had disappeared.

“Lady Mormont,” he said, and began to speak quickly. “My ladies. I’ve ruined your daughter, your sister, Lady Jorelle. It’s completely my fault. I beg forgiveness, and ask for her hand. I know that does nothing to make up for what I’ve done, but that’s all I know to do to make things right.”

He stole a glance at me.

“Please don’t kill me,” he added. “I couldn’t help myself. I should have, I knew better, but . . .  I didn’t. And if you want to challenge and kill me I suppose that you must. But I beg that you don’t.”

Maege smiled.

“Our ways are different,” she said. “Jory is a Mormont woman, and she chose you. That’s the way of our island. No one has been ruined. No harm has been done.”

“What if she’s with child?”

“Then I’ll welcome another grandchild.”

“I have no say?”

“If you wished a say,” Maege said, “then you should have asked for her hand before laying with her.”

“I would ask for her hand all the same.”

“That decision is hers to make,” Maege said. “We’ve suffered enough for playing the game of thrones.”

“You do not wish her to leave the island.”

“I do not,” Maege agreed. “But Jory is no prisoner here.”

“Then I will ask her,” he said, “and abide by her wishes, whatever her answer.”

He bowed to each of us and left.

“You’d let Jory marry?” Alysane asked Maege.

“If she wished it,” her mother said. “Jory spent a great deal of time in Greywater Watch and knows what it would mean to live there. I don’t think she’ll wish to leave the island. But I won’t stop her.”

She turned to me.

“You can’t stop her, either,” she said, making her voice gentle. “I know you don’t want her to leave.” 

* * *

Jojen Reed left two days later, taking with him memories of another night with Jory but no promise of marriage. My little sister would remain on Bear Island, at least for now.

“It wasn’t much of a decision,” she said to me as we shared a bath with Gilly. Tansy, Lyra and Beth had taken the tub next to ours, but each dozed in the warm water with her eyes closed. “He seems nice, and I did enjoy him, the sex. Turns out I do like riding more than being ridden. But that’s not enough to make a life-long commitment.”

“Yet many do just that,” I said, “based on far less. I was not so wise at your age.”

Nor had I been so wise at a far more advanced age. I had been almost 400 years old when I demanded to marry John Carter, “thrown a tantrum” in Tansy’s phrasing, with little more knowledge of his character than Jory had of Jojen Reed’s. I had done so despite my inability to read his thoughts, and before I knew that we could not fully engage in sex because of our physiological differences.

I had been an impetuous fool.

“You changed all our lives,” Jory said, snapping me out of my self-pity. “Before you came, Mother would have gladly made a marriage pact for a younger daughter with the ruling lord of noble house. I would have had no choice in the matter.”

“I thought Mormont women didn’t marry,” Gilly said.

“That’s the Mormont ideal,” Jory said. “The Mormont reality is that we’re a poor House on a poor island, and Mother had little to bargain with except us.”

“Perhaps you would be safer,” I said, “married to Jojen Reed and ruling the swamps together.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed. “But I’d rather ride with you.”

“If it wasn’t for Little Sam,” Gilly added, “you couldn’t keep me from riding with you, neither. You need looking after almost as much as he does.”

These young women did not fight, but still loved me and wanted to accompany me. I did not deserve such devotion.

“You are needed here,” I said to Gilly. “Someone must look after our home.”

“I like it here,” Gilly said, “Lady Maege is better to me than I had any right to expect. I was there when her brother got killed, and she heard out the whole story without blaming me at all.”

“She loves you.”

“I doesn’t need to read minds to know that,” she said, and laughed. She had not laughed when she first came to Bear Island. “I’ll miss you. All of you. It’s less work, with just Aly and Lya to look after, but I’d rather you was here or I was with you.”

“We will hurry back,” I said. “I do not wish to be away for any longer than necessary.” 

* * *

On the next morning, Jeyne Poole assigned my secret mistress and me to garbage removal, along with two of the garrison’s female soldiers. Before my arrival, trash had been tossed haphazardly into a pile known as a “midden heap,” which attracted rats and other vermin and also leached its foul seepages into the water table. I had convinced Tansy to order the trash taken some distance away from the Keep and buried; I knew from spying on Jeyne’s thoughts that my family and its retainers considered this silly and not coincidentally I drew this assignment fairly often in retaliation.

The four of us used large forks to toss the trash from the large bins where it had been collected into the back of a sledge, which Beth then drove to the dumping site while the rest of us walked along behind it, scooping up the odd bits that fell off. It was a disgusting job, one I was sure no princess of Barsoom had ever undertaken.

“Would be easier,” one of my companions said, “if they’d just dump it right in the sledge.”

“Bad enough we’ll have to wash this one out,” her comrade replied. “Imagine if it sat there for days first.”

“Not if we made smaller bins,” I said. “Perhaps with small wheels on them. And then we could roll them onto the back of a sledge or wagon.”

“We’d have to clean those eventually,” the first soldier said.

“But not every time,” I said. “And we could tip them over into the pit. And then we wouldn’t get covered in this . . .”

“Shit?” she suggested.

“Gunk?” the other soldier offered.

“Muck,” Beth called back to us.

“Muck,” I said. “We would not get as much muck on our clothing.”

“They do it that way in your lands?” the first soldier asked.

“I do not know,” I said. “Princesses do not trouble themselves with trash.”

“Princesses don’t do it here, neither,” she said. “But you’re not like other princesses.”

“I once was,” I said. “Now I am not.”

“That’s good,” she laughed.

I had no wish to play Red Savior, a representative of a self-anointed superior race come to uplift the benighted people of this backward land. Still, I loved my family and my new home, and had introduced a number of ideas to make life on Bear Island somewhat more bearable. The rotting trash was disgusting; I saw no problems with teaching concepts of sanitation.

After bathing and changing into a clean brown dress, I went to my office in the Guard barracks. I packed our castle model for the journey, and rolled up a copy of the map I had made and put it in a tube. And then I considered the stacks of papers cluttering every level surface.

No one will ever read the papers I’ve written since Tansy, Beth and I took up residence on Bear Island, no more than anyone will ever read this journal of my adventures. John Carter kept a similar journal, and transmitted it to Jasoom for a relative to publish. I write both my papers and my journal in the script of Helium, which no one on this planet can read except perhaps the mysterious machine buried deep under the castle known as the Night Fort.

Paper, made from the pulp of trees, is not produced in Westeros and is therefore almost as expensive as parchment, the skin of animals also used for writing. I had looted a large stock of paper from the Night Watch’s supplies in Castle Black, more than I could hope to cover before the pages began to crumble into dust.

I carefully gathered the volumes of my journal, and my scientific papers, and tied them in bundles with bits of brightly-colored string. Should I fail to return to Bear Island, I knew that Gilly would see that they were properly stored away in our library. Whether they would ever be taken down from the shelves there, I could not know.

As a poet of Jasoom once wrote, all of our names are writ on water. I’ve written this story, and shall continue to write it, because it pleases me to do so. One does not create – whether it is art or science – for the acclaim of the crowd. That which is worth doing, is worth doing for its own sake. 

* * *

Asha Greyjoy finally declared the weather to her satisfaction, though I could not tell the difference. Nevertheless, we loaded our weapons aboard the horse transport and trooped up the plank into the ship: seventy House Guards, Gendry, Melly the healer, my four sisters and I. Maege, Aly, Lyanna and Gilly stood by to see us off; even the Little Bear embraced me.

The sailors had modified the horse stalls in the ship’s hold to transport our soldiers; we would not be taking any of our animals on this adventure. I missed my mare already, but Jojen Reed would supply horses for our command group; the soldiers would march on foot.

I watched my remaining sisters, my adoptive mother and my friend Gilly fade into the distance, still waving from the dock. I had no explanation for my uneasiness; I longed to tell Asha Greyjoy to turn the ship around, but I said nothing. I probably should have listened to my fears.

We sailed directly across to Deepwood Port, where we found Toregg and Longspear Ryk waiting for us. They had a “safe conduct” pass from Galbart Glover, but that had not stopped the port’s innkeeper from forcing them to sleep in the stable with their horses. They also had a written message from Lord Glover, which Toregg handed to Tansy after we took a table inside the inn.

“Don’t allow their kind in here,” the innkeeper said before she could open the scroll. He was a rather fat and red-faced man; he had not been here when we had last passed through the port. “You take them outside with the rest of the livestock.”

Lyra rose from the table and faced him. I had rarely known her to become so angry, so quickly.

“This is my brother,” she said. “You’ll offer apologies, and you’ll do so now.”

“Like hell I will.”

A large man carrying a club shambled over from where he had been leaning against the wall. Beth Cassel vaulted over the table and punched him in the throat; he fell to his knees, gasping for air. She shoved the club out of his reach with her foot. The handful of other patrons watched the confrontation, but made no moves to join it.

“Now once again,” Lyra said. “Apologize to my brother.”

“She-Bears,” the innkeeper snorted, and spat on the dirty floor. “Think big tits and a sword makes you queens of all fucking creation.”

I stood and moved alongside Lyra.

“Sister,” I said softly. “Let us return to our ship.”

“That’s right,” the innkeeper said. “Listen to the red-skinned bitch. Keep your money. Go back to your ship.”

“You should not have called me ‘bitch’,” I told him. Knowing that Lyra would be disappointed in me should I kill him, I had thought to tear off his clothing and humiliate him. Before I could act, Lyra slapped him across the face.

“Learn some manners,” she said. She slapped him again. He backed away.

“You’re not worth the killing,” she continued, slapping him a third time. “Bring us meat, bread and ale. If you spit in it, we’ll kill you and all of your friends.”

Beth followed him and leaned against the kitchen doorway to make sure he brought us good food and drink. Lyra and I resumed our seats.

“Sister,” I said, as gently as I could, “I have not seen you so angry. Usually you are restraining me from violence.”

“I suppose our . . . quest has me on edge. Toregg and Ryk don’t have to be here. I won’t have them insulted.”

“Thank you for not killing him,” Tansy said. “And for leaving off smashing the place up. We own half of this inn, you know.”

“I didn’t know,” Lyra said. “You and Tycho bought it?”

“Through Galbart Glover,” Tansy nodded. “He owns the other half. That idiot probably doesn’t know he works for us.”

The inn’s enforcer slowly staggered to his feet and shuffled away, not wishing to continue the confrontation. The innkeeper and his wife placed our food and drink on the table without a word.

“You’d make a fine spearwife,” Toregg told Beth as she resumed her place, nodding with approval. “There’s spearwives who steal women, you know.”

“I didn’t know,” she said. “How did you know?”

“North of the Wall,” he said, “you want to keep your balls, you learn who to steal and who to leave be.”

“South of the Wall,” she answered, “women burn for that.”

“Secrets among kin,” Toregg said, grinning to show several missing teeth, “remain secrets among kin.”

“What does the letter say?” Lyra asked Tansy.

“What we expected. Galbart Glover has marched south, staying off the Kingsroad. The Manderlys have taken ship and should already be at Greywater Watch.”

It was now too late to cancel the operation. We had taken our fingers off the Jetan piece; our move could not be taken back. 

* * *

Toregg took well to sailing, but Ryk did not, and he spent a good deal of time beside me at the ship’s railing, puking over the side and trying to watch the horizon.

“I never believed in hell,” he told me. “Now I know it exists, and it’s a ship.”

“You did not have to come.”

“I did,” he said. “You’re our kinswoman, somehow. What better way to show we’re part of your kingdom now?”

He retched over the side, took a drink of water from a skin and spat, and resumed our conversation.

“And it’s an adventure! Right? Tell me it’s an adventure.”

I leaned over and puked again. He grabbed a handful of my tunic’s back and held on, keeping me from plunging into the gray water.

“Aye, it’s pretty bad,” he said. “But it’s not worth jumping into the sea.”

“I thought the Free Folk traveled the sea.”

“Aye, some clans,” he allowed. “They even raided your island. Never mine; we lived well away from the waters.”

Eventually Ryk went to attempt sleep, leaving me at my post. Soon Gendry came to stand beside me as I tried to concentrate on the horizon.

“I must not look away,” I said. “Or I shall puke.”

“That’s alright,” he said. “I hoped to seek more advice.”

“Who has demanded sex from you now?”

“Jeyne.”

“That is surprising.”

“She said she wanted me to know what I had to come back to, to make sure I return.”

“You enjoyed it?”

“By the gods,” he said, breathing heavily at the memory. “She did things I never heard of.”

She had deployed the skills taught in Littlefinger’s whorehouse, achieving things with her tongue that I had never thought to attempt on John Carter.

“You seem to need no advice then.”

“I should marry because of the sex?” he asked, somewhat surprised. “That’s never a reason for marriage here.”

“You wish Jeyne as your mistress?”

“No. Well, yes. But she’s a lady.”

“And thus suitable for a knight to marry.”

“Yes. But when she does those things . . .”

“You think her not suitable?”

“It bothers me.”

“Gendry,” I said, still staring at the horizon. “I am a princess, and I am beautiful. Yet I could not prevent my husband leaving me for one who could satisfy him. Had I the skills Jeyne showed you, perhaps he would not have done so.”

I was fairly certain that my skills in giving sexual pleasure greatly exceeded Jeyne’s, but Gendry did not need to know this.

“She never spoke of how she learned.”

“She was captured by the Lannisters, and forced to be a whore. Does that bother you?”

“I feel badly for her,” Gendry said. “So that part bothers me. It bothers me a great deal. But I don’t think less of her for it, if you understand what I mean.”

“That is good. You are a good man, Gendry, one sensitive to the feelings of others. Let me assure you, though, that no one, man or woman, who has not experienced it can fully understand the pain and humiliation of rape. For Jeyne to open herself to you in this manner is an astounding display of trust. And love. Value it accordingly.”

“Marry her?”

“And love her. And cherish her. And realize how fortunate you are every morning when you wake up to her warmth beside you. Not because of what she can do for you. But because she was willing to recall those things, so she could give them to you.”

I kept my eyes fixed on the horizon, but felt him shift to stare down into the water rushing past the hull.

“I wish you really had been my mother,” he said, choking on emotion. “Your son doesn’t know how lucky he is.” He turned and walked away, not wishing me to see him cry.

“And I wish you had been my son,” I said quietly, though there was no one there to hear. Why had I never spoken like this with my own sons?

Jory and Beth replaced him shortly afterwards, taking places on either side of me.

“You’re not wearing your leash,” Jory said. “Tansy will throw us overboard too if we lose you.”

She wrapped a rope around my waist, having already tied it to the mast.

“I have not puked in at least an hour,” I protested. “We are on our way to battle.”

“And that makes you less nervous,” Beth said. “Unlike the rest of us.”

“This is true,” I said. “I lose all emotion before fighting.”

“Wish I could do that.”

“I do not see why not. You have received my thoughts.”

“When was that?” Jory asked, then she realized to what I referred and her face reddened. She had not been sure that Beth had become my secret mistress. “Never mind.”

“I am sorry,” I said. “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable.”

“Beth has what she wanted,” Jory said. “And so do I. I have a big sister again who I can ride with and hunt with and just be with. You’re allowed to be happy.”

“It does not bother you?”

“I knew you were different from the start. And I put up with far worse from Beth.”

Beth’s hand darted past me to poke Jory under her ribs.

“Not on the rail of the ship,” I scolded. “Do not force me to puke on you.” 

* * *

We had arranged to meet Jojen Reed’s guides at the mouth of a river called the Fever River, at the head of a long inlet called the Saltspear. Asha Greyjoy kept our ship out of sight of land, what she called “over the horizon,” until the early morning hours when she brought it as close to the small beach as she dared. I detected familiar thoughts awaiting us; their presence surprised me though they should not have done so. I went ashore in the first boat, along with Lyra and six Mormont soldiers.

“Princess,” Jojen Reed greeted me as I waded out of the gentle surf. “I trust you had a safe voyage.”

“As you knew it would be,” I said.

“Actually, no,” he said. “Sometimes I have green visions, but I’m not the seer my father was. We’ve camped here for some nights, watching for you.”

“You have met my sister Lyra,” I said. He took her hand and kissed it very formally.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, even in these circumstances.”

“Your sister and her wolf are well?” Lyra asked.

“Very much so. You’ll see them soon.”

While the young lord was polite to Lyra, I could have detected his disappointment even without telepathy. He had hoped to see Jory wading ashore, preferably soaking wet, but was too embarrassed to ask if she had come with us. Meanwhile our soldiers took up a perimeter, while the sailors set out for the ship to bring more troops ashore.

“The Glover and Manderly troops have arrived?”

“They’re camped at Greywater Watch. About 200 Glovers, perhaps twice that many Manderlys. Led by Lord Glover and Ser Marlon Manderly.”

“Did you experience any difficulties?”

“None. They, and our own men, should be ready to depart as soon as you wish.”

He continued to look nervously past me at the two boats shuttling soldiers to the beach behind me, trying to spot Jory.

“Are you looking for someone?” Lyra finally asked.

“No. Well, yes. Lady Jorelle, she came with you?”

“Yes,” I said. “She is helping Tansy and Gendry oversee transfer of a special weapon from the ship to shore.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know Gendry.”

“Our blacksmith,” I said. “He is also a knight and a philosopher.”

“I understand,” Jojen Reed said. He had no understanding at all, but had decided not to try to figure out this particular puzzle.

The Reed men had brought some of their flat-bottomed boats, and after we loaded the kegs of explosive powder we set out up the river and then through the swamps to Greywater Watch.

“You are satisfied?” I asked Gendry as we mounted two of the handful of horses the Reeds had provided.

“As satisfied as I can be,” he answered. “I don’t dare open the wrappings to see if moisture got in, else moisture will get in for sure.”

“We will obtain a dry, secure chamber in the castle,” I said, “and you can check it there.”

The journey to Greywater Watch took two full days and the morning of a third; each day, Jojen Reed rode alongside Jory. She seemed annoyed by the excess of attention.

“You tire of him?” I asked as we snuggled under our sleeping fur on the second night.

“I’d like to lay with him again,” she whispered. “But the constant attention. It’s stifling.”

“He is anxious,” I said. “And eager for your favor. He does not know how to seek it.”

“He’s making a fine effort at losing it.”

“I am sorry this has disturbed you.”

Young Lord Woods had given similar unwanted attention to Beth Cassel; Asha Greyjoy had solved this problem by intervening to engage him in vigorous, repeated sex. I did not think that solution would be a good idea in this situation.

“I suppose it’s part of the game,” Jory sighed. “You’re far more beautiful than any of us. Why don’t you have men trailing heartbroken after you?”

“Men like my features,” I said. “And the curves of my breasts and my ass. But attraction is more than appearance. I do not have the same . . . smells as you do.”

“Smells?”

I did not know how to describe pheromones.

“Humans are not attracted simply by appearance,” I explained. “We have substances, in our skin, that cause others to react, sometimes powerfully. Mine are not the same as yours.”

“So why does Tansy . . .”

“She loves me. As does Beth.”

“As do I, but I don’t want to, you know, with you.”

“You prefer men,” I said, “as do most women. The speed of Beth’s attraction to me was unusual. Attraction usually happens very quickly, but that is because of the chemical reaction.”

“So our deepest feelings come from . . . chemicals?”

“Often,” I said, “things we feel profound are actually very simple.”

“That’s sad,” she said. “I’m sure it’s true, but I want love to be real.”

“It is real. But reality is not always what we believe it to be.” 

* * *

At Greywater Watch we found the castle teeming with soldiers, housed in the wooden buildings and in neat rows of small tents in the dry areas of open ground. Meera Reed greeted us at the castle’s entry – it had no true walls or gates – while her massive wolf kept its distance from me, recalling that I had once threatened to eat it.

“I do like this notion of leaving the levies behind,” Ser Marlon told me as we inspected his troops’ campsite. “Far more orderly.”

“And effective,” I said. “I do not wish for any unnecessary deaths.”

“Except among the Freys.”

“No,” I said. “Those are necessary, by my lady’s order.”

“I thank you again for including us,” Ser Marlon said. “My cousin did what was necessary to preserve our House and its people. But it burned my soul to treat Freys as friends and allies.”

“Keep your mind clear of hate,” I cautioned. “Excess emotion is deadly in battle.”

He made to object, then changed his mind.

“Aye,” he said. “Stay calm, stay alive, let the Freys do the dying.”

“Just so.”

We had brought my model of the Twins and the map, and I met with Ser Marlon, Lord Glover and several of their commanders to review the attack plans. I kept Jory with me as my aide; she provided necessary assistance as I could not write their language well, and this also shielded her from the attentions of Jojen Reed.

“This isn’t our way,” Galbart Glover mused. “We generally decide our strategies on the spot.”

“And die in droves,” Ser Marlon added.

“Planning saves lives,” I said. “Our task is not to die for our Houses, but to make the Freys die for theirs.”

I went over the plans carefully and made sure that all of the men who would lead the troops outside the walls had opportunities to discuss their role. I then questioned each to make sure he fully understood his part and that of his men. Only Mormonts would make the assault over the walls. The Glovers and Reeds would form a perimeter; the Manderlys would be massed to enter the castle after we had engaged the garrison and opened the gates. While the Manderlys surged forward to seize the inner walls and join the attack on the Frey barracks, all the while screaming and shouting, the Glovers and Reeds would tighten the perimeter and form a strong guard over each of the sally ports.

“What about the river?” Ser Marlon asked. “Surely they have boats, and can escape.”

“We have located their docks,” I pointed out on the model, “right here. There is only one such location; the Freys fear assault from the water. My sisters and our team will go there after securing the throne room.”

“And with my men holding this end of the bridge,” Ser Marlon nodded, “the weasels will be trapped.”

“You’re taking a great deal on yourself,” Lord Glover pointed out. “The walls, the throne room, the docks. If something should happen . . .”

“You have seen my sister Lyra and me in battle. We are even more formidable with Beth Cassel, with whom you have sparred.”

He turned to Ser Marlon.

“Lady Beth is likely faster with a blade than her father.”

Ser Marlon’s eyes widened.

“I went against Ser Rodrik in Lord Rickard Stark’s tournament, when we both were young knights,” he said. “He was an extraordinary swordsman.”

He bowed to my secret mistress.

“A pleasure to fight alongside his daughter,” he said. She smiled. His thoughts indicated that he meant it; like other Northern fighting men, he was used to the ways of Mormont women.

“In a narrow battlefield,” I continued, “such as the inside of a castle, concentration of force is the key to victory. My sisters and I represent a great deal of concentrated force.”

“I believe I understand,” Galbart Glover nodded. “Their numbers mean nothing when they can only send three or four against you at once.”

“Just so,” I answered. “And to be clear, it is imperative to my adoptive mother that Lyra, Beth or I be the one to slay Walder Frey.”

“Princess,” Ser Marlon began, “should we reach the bridge without heavy fighting, do you wish us to rush the other castle?”

“No,” I said. “You could easily become trapped there should the small fortress in the center of the bridge hold. The key targets are in this castle. Should Walder Frey be in the other castle for some reason, we will consider a rapid assault. Otherwise, we will content ourselves with capturing this one.”

“It burns me to leave Freys alive.”

“I understand,” I said. “Yet their deaths are not worth excess deaths among our own troops. They are vermin, and we will exterminate them at minimal cost to ourselves.” 

* * *

Every day we tarried at Greywater Watch increased the probability of some chance encounter alerting the Freys. Since all of our troops had arrived, we departed two days after our arrival.

While spring had come and the air seemed warmer, snow still lay on much of the ground and the swamps through which we passed had a thin layer of ice over their waters each morning. The scouts told me that few people traveled in this weather, and it would be at least another month – what they called a “moon’s turn” – until the roads saw any traffic.

After speaking with several of the Reed scouts, most of whom I’d met during my first stay in Greywater Watch, I decided to use wagons rather than sledges to move our supplies and the explosive powder. That difference could slow our march, but while we could move wagons over snow, we could not move sledges over mud. And there would be a great deal of mud.

We remained cautious and marched forward away from known paths. The swamp people guided us along five different routes to minimize the chance of detection; I rode one of the few horses available along with my sisters, our Free Folk friends and Gendry.

“You are satisfied with the powder’s condition?” I asked as he pulled up beside me.

“So far,” he said. “You know that if the garrison is alerted at night they’ll loose fire arrows to light up the ground outside.”

I had not considered this; thanks to the advanced technology of Barsoom the darkness is not a true cover for stealthy movements and we have powerful artificial lights available to chase away the night.

“What do you suggest?” I asked. I had no immediate answer.

“Cover the kegs,” Tansy said, riding on my other side. “A layer of thin wood or woven reeds, just enough to snag an arrow, maybe two feet above the kegs.”

“Sand,” Jory added from behind us. “Fill the wagon with sand, bury the kegs under it.”

I called to the leader of the Reed scouts, who dropped back to join us.

“Is there a source of sand near our assembly area?” I asked.

“Sand?” he responded. “Like, from a river bank?”

“Yes,” I said, “but it must be dry sand.”

“There are sandy stretches all along the riverbank, princess. I’ll send one of my men forward to find one well away from the Frey castle. How much do you seek?”

I looked at Gendry.

“Two wagons full, I should think. As the princess said, it must be dry.”

“We can do that,” the scout said. “We’ll need to unload the wagons first. Can this wait until we reach our final campsites?”

“It can,” I said. “And thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next episode, Dejah Thoris makes a surprising discovery.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris loses a follower but gains a sister.

Chapter Eleven

Study of the Twins, as well as the Dreadfort, Moat Cailin, Harrenhal and Winterfell, had made it clear to me that castles in these lands were constructed over decades, with new towers and walls added or rebuilt, fallen sections replaced and other alterations made. They did not seem to follow any comprehensive architectural plan. Each castle I had examined had numerous flaws in its defenses, and I suspected that the same must be true of the Twins. My map and model had helped in planning, but I would have to see the castle’s walls for myself to choose our point of attack.

Jojen Reed had not ridden south with us, instead placing his troops under my direct command. He had told them that half could accompany me; I had sent twenty men back to Greywater Watch else he would have had fewer than ten men left. One hundred twenty swamp warriors continued on with us.

I asked two of the Reed scouts to assist me, and I rode south with them from our campsite alongside my sister Lyra. Tansy’s raven came with us as well. Jojen had apparently given thought to our mission for some time, drawing on plans his father had laid for an assault on the Twins. The scouts pointed out suggested routes to secretly move our troops into position, and areas where we could assemble them out of sight of the Twins.

The crannogmen brought us almost within view of the castle on horseback; we dismounted and walked through the forest of small trees to a point overlooking the Twins. No patrols were evident, by eyesight or telepathy. We crouched among the trees, the raven sitting on my shoulder.

“Snow!” he croaked. “Snow! Snow!”

“He misses Jon Snow?” Lyra whispered.

“No,” I said. “He is right. Look at the snow.”

The fields between our hiding place and the castle, usually pasture for horses or cattle, retained a shallow covering of snow. And in that snow, we could see no footprints.

“No one has scouted this area for many days, perhaps longer.”

When darkness fell I put on my black leggings and tunic, and darkened my face and hands with black walnut juice. Lyra began to do the same.

“You should remain here,” I said. “We do not know the danger.”

“We’re not having this argument,” she said. “I go where you go. And I need to see what you see.”

I nodded, unwilling to object. I wanted her with me.

We slithered forward, trying to remain on patches of ground not covered by snow, until we reached a shallow ditch in front of the castle. The ditch had filled with weeds and debris that had obviously not been cleared for some years. That also gave us cover to move along the perimeter; as we did so I tracked the thoughts of the guards above and we both studied the walls.

I found the flaw I sought at the very end of our observation: the tower at the southern end of the wall, where it met the river, was not manned. The guard on the last section of the wall walked to the tower and then turned around; apparently the Freys did not consider that anyone might attack them from the river. No patrols left the castle, as Ser Hosteen had told us, and no guard posts watched the river bank. We slithered through the garbage and plants of the ditch to its very end, and dropped to the river’s shore.

A small beach of rocks and pebbles stretched from the water to a high embankment apparently cut by flood waters. This bank stood slightly less than my height above the little beach; our assault force could slip right along the riverbank to a point directly under the unmanned tower without being seen. I silently pointed this out to Lyra, and then indicated the corner tower. We would enter their castle there.

Frey stupidity would be their death.

We slithered back to our hiding place, and talked over what we had learned. The crannogmen explained why the Freys sent out no patrols: they believed the warming weather to be a temporary lull. They both feared that men could be caught in a sudden storm, and believed that no one would be about during Winter to molest their lands. They certainly would not expect an attack on their castle. That matched what I had gleaned from the thoughts of the watchers on the walls, and the information I had extracted from Ser Hosteen.

We returned to our encampment, to find Gendry re-arranging the explosive powder into three wagons, with a layer of sand protecting the kegs from fire – the weight of the sand required that he spread the load. I gave the final orders for our movement into attack position. 

* * *

I could feel the excitement among our troops as the moonless night for our attack arrived. We pulled on our costumes: tight black tunics and leggings, with faces and hands blackened with wood ash. We wore ringed armor, painted black, and reversed our surcoats to show only the black inner lining.

As always, I had my sword slung over my shoulder, and two of the Valyrian steel daggers I had taken from Cersei in sheaths, one on either hip, plus my working knife strapped to my thigh. After several years of fighting on this world, I still missed the comforting weight of a holstered pistol on my hip, tied low.

Tansy used a cutting tool known as “scissors” to re-shape both my hair and Lyra’s to look like Beth’s, just brushing the tops of our shoulders. Ryk and Toregg asked for the same cut, as did Jory, so Tansy finally had Lyra cut hers to match the rest of us.

The shorter hair felt lighter on my head, and less likely to get in my way during a fight without the uncomfortable pulling sensation of a braid. I missed my long hair, but knew that I remained beautiful without it and most importantly, female in appearance. Lyra and Beth now looked very much alike, aside from their eye color and Beth’s freckles, and for some reason this pleased me.

I gathered my command team around me: my sisters, Gendry, Lord Glover and Ser Marlon.

“You are all familiar with the plan. Is there anything further to discuss?”

Everyone shook their heads.

“Again. I will lead the Mormonts to the riverside tower, Beth and the Free Folk with me, Lyra at the end of the column. Lord Glover’s men will form a perimeter around the castle, with the Reeds under his command as well. Ser Marlon’s troops will concentrate at the edge of the woods, with Gendry’s explosives, ready to storm through the gates when we open them. The Manderly soldiers will roll the wagons forward so that we do not have to deal with horses.

“Once again, Ser Marlon. Do not allow enthusiasm to carry your men down the walled pathway through the center of the castle. It leads to their deaths.”

He nodded again. We all touched one another on the shoulders, and went to our positions. I stopped Tansy and Jory.

“Be safe,” I whispered to Tansy, and kissed her. Jory embraced us both as we did so; I kissed the top of my little sister’s head.

“No kisses for me?” Asha Greyjoy asked from beside me. “I could die here, you know.”

“Only for my sisters.”

“At least let me rub your tits for good luck.”

“No.”

“Just the left one.”

“No.”

“If I die here, you’ll be sorry you denied me this last request.”

“You will not die, and I will not be sorry. Take your position.”

We marched through the woods in single file to the riverbank, with Beth, Toregg and Ryk directly behind me, followed by Asha Greyjoy, and Lyra at the end making sure no one straggled. We arrived at the river without incident, and dropped over the edge of the embankment.

We crouched as we followed the embankment along the river, and reached the foot of the wall without alerting the watchers above. I detected one set of thoughts in the tower above us, a man fast asleep at his post.

Toregg, Ryk and I each looped a thick rope over our shoulder and began to climb. The wall proved rough and uneven, and I found hand-holds fairly easily, aided by the steel tools Gendry had forged for us. They easily went into the soft mortar between the stones and soon we crouched below one of the crenellations.

I signaled to my companions, and we vaulted over the edge together. Toregg held his hand over the sleeping sentry’s mouth and stabbed him once in the chest; the man sighed and died. The two Free Folk shoved the corpse into a corner while I secured my rope around a merlon and dropped it over the side. Beth caught it before it hit the ground and began to climb. Toregg and Ryk secured and dropped their own ropes, and soon our assault force was swarming up the side of the tower. So far, no one within the Twins had been alerted.

Lyra came up last, with Asha Greyjoy scampering up just ahead of her on one of the other ropes. They directed the soldiers to pull up the ropes, so no visible evidence remained of our ascent. All of our Mormont troops were crowded into the tower’s broad fighting platform, and eager for action. We all removed our surcoats and turned them around to show our bear insignia; the Freys would know who had killed them.

The one guard walking the wall between this tower and the next was on his way toward us. I took up a position behind the door, rocking it slightly to make sure it would open easily. The guard came to the end of his post, touched the door with one hand, and turned around to walk back. I let him take two steps to clear the door, opened it, grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him inside.

One of the Mormont soldiers shoved the man’s cloak into his mouth. The sentry could see little inside the tower room, and urinated in terror.

“How many guards occupy the next tower?” I asked quietly.

He meant to scream if allowed to speak, so I drew his dagger and stabbed him in the heart. I left the weapon in his chest.

“I will walk slowly to the next tower, as though I am the guard,” I said. “Follow behind me, crouching below the merlons.”

Slowly, I walked the guard’s post, but no one even looked at me as far as I could detect. One man awaited inside the next tower. I opened the door and stepped inside, my sisters right behind me. The man sat at a table with a bowl of soup in front of him; I handed the soup to Beth, grabbed the back of the man’s head and smashed it sharply into the table. He died and remained slumped at the table; Beth carefully replaced his soup next to his bloody head.

We captured the next four towers similarly, with Beth or me dispatching all of the guards with daggers or our bare hands. So far, no one had raised an alarm. The next tower overlooked the castle gates, the only entrance through which wagons or sledges could enter – the other openings were small sally ports to allow troops to attack enemies besieging the castle.

The guard barracks lay on this side of the roadway splitting the castle, with the Great Hall flanking it on the other side. We had hoped to attack the barracks and Great Hall by surprise, but had not truly expected the Freys to be so slack in their duty.

On this stretch of wall the guard did not walk, counting on a watcher on the level above to secure this zone. One man stood on the wall, next to the tower’s door, while another looked out from the upper level. The man on the wall leaned against the tower and dozed, while the other paid little attention to his duty.

“Javelins,” I said softly. The soldiers passed several forward to Lyra, who held them for me. In the near-total darkness I would have to track my targets purely by thought. I had done so often on Barsoom, but the heavier gravity of this planet had altered my throwing motion. I was unsure I could still do so, though I had killed deer in this manner and several Iron Born.

I decided to kill the watcher first. I hefted the javelin, feeling its light weight, and threw. I need not have worried; it took the sentry in the neck and he made no sound as he fell over the parapet to the ground outside the wall. The second javelin hit the man on the wall in the center of his forehead, pinning him to the tower behind him.

Lyra passed the remaining javelins back to the soldiers, and we set out for the gate tower, my sisters and I in front. I detected no one else in the gate tower and pulled open the door; the fifty men and women assigned to the gates and the barracks split off from us and surged down the wide stairs. Still we remained silent and undetected, though I knew this would not last much longer.

A short parapet connected the two gate towers, and we abandoned stealth for this move, running across the gap. The lone sentry looked up as the door opened, and I was on him before he could react, grabbing hold of his arm and the back of his neck to sling him off the side of the wall. He screamed as he fell, the first alarm sounded in our attack.

I kicked in the door of the northern gate tower; the two men within had heard their friend scream and had just started to rise from the table where they had been eating. I shoved the one closest to me to the floor, where Beth stabbed him with her sword. The other backed away, and I vaulted the table to punch him in the face. He struck the back wall of the room and joined his friend on the floor, where Beth finished him as well.

My sisters and I pounded down the stairs, followed by eight Mormont soldiers including Asha Greyjoy plus Toregg and Ryk, while the remaining twelve soldiers of our contingent set out along the top of the wall to finish the sentries there. I finally heard shouts and the clash of steel as our friends broke into the barracks, and a loud crash as the main gate fell open. 

* * *

We met no guards at the foot of the tower, and ran across a small courtyard paved with flat stones to the entrance of the Great Hall. A guard stood inside the doorway; he should have been outside but had come in from the cold. Lyra quietly ran him through before he could raise an alarm; that came from a young, plain-faced serving woman who dropped a platter of steaming meat and raised a loud scream before Asha Greyjoy clamped her hand over the woman’s mouth and stuck a dagger into her abdomen.

Two guards stood outside the double doors leading to the feasting hall, which were just being shut as we stormed into the entryway. My sisters each engaged one of them and killed them quickly, while I shoved the doors. They had been barred; I kicked the center and splintered the cross-piece on the first blow.

Inside, the Frey guards who had barred the door had pulled back to leave an open space between the doors and a growing crowd of people, most of them armed but few of them armored.

“You have invaded the castle of King Walder of the River Lands, first of his name,” a man with greasy black hair and a weasel face said in a loud voice; his thoughts were filled with pompous indignation. “Surrender now, or die here.”

An incredibly ancient-looking man sat on a throne carved of black wood, with a huge wolf skin draped over his legs and a bizarre orange-colored wig on his head. Despite his decrepitude, I knew him to be at least 700 of this planet’s years younger than I.

“Lothar,” said the old man, apparently the self-appointed king, “do you not know who this is? The She-Bears have sent us Dejah Thoris. You have before you the Queenslayer, who killed two queens, two dragons and murdered my son Black Walder.”

He said no more and we looked at one another silently for a brief moment, until finally I tired of the game and spoke.

“I am indeed Dejah Thoris of House Mormont,” I said loudly. “I have come to kill you, your family and all of your retainers.”

“I know who you are,” he rattled. “We were warned of your coming.”

“Perhaps you should have shared this warning with your guards.”

King Walder remained calm, confident that his soldiers would storm into the hall at any moment. Unknown to him, the Manderly soldiers had already joined our own men in hunting down the last of the Frey warriors from the barracks.

In Walder’s hall my sisters drew up on either side of me, while Frey family members and guards continued to fill the space between us and their king. The old man’s gaze fixated on Lyra.

“A true She-Bear,” he said. “And the little Cassel bitch. My son killed your real sister, right there by the door. Drove an axe into her belly, he did. She had big, firm round tits just like yours. Saw them when we stripped her before giving her to the river.”

I saw the Freys in front of him start to relax, anticipating a lengthy, ritual exchange of insults and airing of grievances. A large man in the center of their disorganized mob lowered his sword. I strode forward and kicked him in his groin, slicing open the neck of the man to his left at the same time and punching the man on his right in the face. And then the real fighting began as my sisters began to play their swords into the startled Freys. The Mormont soldiers closed up behind us, and we formed a wedge aimed directly at the throne.

I lost myself in the song of battle, anticipating the moves of the Freys attacking me, knocking their swords away and cutting them down. These were not trained soldiers but mostly King Walder’s grandsons, great-grandsons and assorted nephews of some sort, all present as part of his ceremonial guard. He appeared to have an unlimited supply of offspring. Two weasel-faced women, screaming insults and waving knives, attacked us as well; they died side-by-side, as quickly as their male relations, when Beth slashed both of their throats in a single swing of her sword. Soon at least twenty bodies lay in front of us.

“Dejah!” Toregg shouted. “In the balcony!”

Above us, four men with crossbows leaned over and loosed their bolts at my sisters. I made my choice without thought. I stepped between Lyra and the crossbowmen, tracked the bolt coming directly for the center of my chest and deflected it with my sword; I had trained for this but usually only could do so about one time out of three. But three others had been aimed at Beth, who crashed into my side just after I knocked away the bolt.

I dropped my sword and took Beth into my arms. Yet I saw no bolt protruding from her flesh, and she squirmed to reach her feet.

“Asha,” was all she said.

I tossed Beth upright, scooped up my sword and looked to where she had stood. Asha Greyjoy had obviously shoved Beth out of the bolts’ path, and as I turned to her she sank to her knees and then fell slowly backwards. Three crossbow bolts had punched through her ringed armor and stuck out of her body in a neat row: one in her throat, one at the top of her chest and one between her breasts. I dropped to my knees next to her but she was already dead. Asha Greyjoy’s dark eyes stared back at me, but no life remained within them. She had indeed needed better luck.

Enraged, I stalked over to the heavy wooden pillar holding up the balcony. The crossbowmen hurriedly tried to reload. I stuck my sword into the mortar between two of the floor’s paving stones.

“Axe!” I shouted at Ryk, who tossed me his heavy battle axe, drew his sword and along with Toregg moved to join Lyra covering my back.

I caught the axe and swung it into the pillar in one motion. The wooden support shuddered. I swung it again, and the pillar cracked and began to sag. The third time it shattered, spilling the four crossbowmen to the floor. Beth Cassel killed them methodically; the last had time to shakily come to his knees.

“I beg you,” he began, before she shoved her sword into his throat. He gagged and died.

Beth and I slid into place on either side of Lyra, resuming the triune combat position with the two Free Folk covering our flanks. Still more Freys had filled the space in front of their king, some armed with swords but most with knives or nothing at all. We cut through them like a drill-bore through soft rock; red blood flew in huge sprays as my sisters and I slashed our way forward. Four armored men picked up Walder on his small throne and escaped through a doorway to the left side of raised platform on which it had rested. His orange wig flew off his head and fluttered to the floor.

Walder’s latest queen stood in front of the platform, loosely holding a dagger in both hands, the tip pointed at the floor. She was very pretty, with bright blue eyes and soft brown hair, and wore a blue gown cut very low to display her high, round breasts – no doubt to please King Walder – and a rather vacant expression.

“Please,” she said softly. “I . . . I don’t want to be queen any more. I made a mistake. I want to do something else. Maybe teach children, or . . . lead dances. I don’t want to die for him. I don’t want to die at all.”

Beth snarled and put her sword through the unfortunate woman’s chest before I could decide what to do with her. My mistress placed her hand on the queen’s shoulder and shoved the dying woman backwards to free the blade.

Seven Frey warriors, armored and trained fighters this time, boiled out of the doorway to protect their king’s escape. Lyra, Beth and I faced them shoulder to shoulder; I noted that Tansy had entered the room with Jory alongside her, her sword drawn but unbloodied. I shouted to Toregg and Ryk to cover them, but they had already started to move in our sisters’ direction.

The first Frey soldier to reach me swung his sword wildly, eager to cut me in half at the waist. I blocked his attack with the flat of my sword, spun my blade to present its edge and gave him a powerful two-handed upward cut across his abdomen and chest. His armor parted like foil and he collapsed into the legs of the man behind him, who stopped to clear the falling body. I brought my sword downward into his shoulder, cutting deep into his chest, then pulled the blade free and slashed it hard into the side of a Frey warrior who was trading sword blows with Beth to my right. His armor split and he fell, dying. I saw the Frey soldier on my left also fall backwards, Lyra’s sword having removed most of his unprotected throat.

The last two Freys facing me tried to strike together. I met the sword of the man on my right with a hard parry, knocking his blade into the oncoming swing of the man to my left. I cut down into the neck of the man on the right, splitting his armored gorget and opening his arteries. Blood sprayed as he hit the floor. As his partner swung his sword again Lyra caught it on her blade. He had not lowered his face-guard, and I stabbed him through the eye.

Behind me, Beth was in trouble. She had slipped and fallen against a heavy wooden table. The last of the Frey soldiers pressed down on her sword with his own, and pulled out a dagger to stab her in the chest. Her eyes grew wide and I remembered what had happened to Arya Stark. But I was not slowed by fever this time. I grabbed the arm holding the dagger as he drew it back to end her life, and spun him around. The dagger flew directly upward and then impaled itself in the table as I rammed my sword through the soldier’s heart with an angry snarl. Beth stared at its bloody point emerging from the soldier’s back just a hand’s span above her face.

I pulled my blade free and held out my hand. She took it and I pulled her up off the table.

“Dejah . . .”

Relieved at her survival, I suddenly wished to kiss her, but I still had many men to kill. The Freys had broken. The survivors ran into various doorways, while the man called Lothar screamed at them to stand their ground. I took the dagger sticking out of the table in my right hand and threw it at Lothar; it took him in the left eye and force of the strike knocked him backwards to the floor.

Lyra, Beth and I rushed for the doorway into which their king had fled. A large Frey soldier wearing ringed armor and holding an axe sought to block our way; I knocked him down with my shoulder and Beth put her foot on his chest and stabbed him in his unprotected throat. I had noticed that in their haste many of the Freys had neglected to complete their armoring before rushing to meet us.

I followed Walder Frey’s thoughts as his men carried him down a flight of stairs headed toward the boat dock on the river. From there they could row him across to the other castle or escape down the river. They encountered two other people coming up the stairs; a man and a woman who turned around and joined them on their flight.

“Hold the doorway,” I told Ryk and Toregg. “Do not let them send others after us.”

Soon after we passed through the door the wide stair leading downward split; I could not tell which way had been taken by the Freys with their king and held up my hand.

“I will go left,” I said, looking from Lyra to Beth. “You both go right. Be cautious for ambushes, and concentrate very hard on what you see.”

They nodded, and we separated.

As I pounded down the stairs, I detected two sets of thoughts ahead, neither alert. I slowed so as not to allow them to hear, and probed more deeply. They were both bored, apparently on guard duty. They had heard nothing of the clamor above. One set of thoughts wondered why after several years it still took two guards to watch over one prisoner. One woman.

A small guardroom dominated the foot of the stairs, with a wooden table at which the two guards sat facing one another, one with his back to the stairs. That struck me as extraordinarily stupid as I grabbed the back of his collar and slung him to the floor next to me. I kicked the edge of the table into his friend’s chest, crushing his ribs, heart and lungs. While the seated guard died, I crushed the throat of the man on the floor under my hob-nailed boot.

A locked door behind them had a small window covered in iron bars. I wiped my sword with a cloak I found hanging on the wall and sheathed it, then took up a torch from a convenient sconce and peered through the window. A corridor lined with barred doors led a short way to apparently end in another such door; behind which I could feel the woman’s thoughts. She slept.

I kicked the door three times before it fell inward, torn off its hinges. The other cells were unoccupied, so I strode to that at the end. Surprisingly, I felt no pain in my foot.

“Are you awake?” I called through the cell’s small window.

“I am now.”

“Stay clear of the door.”

I kicked this door in its center until it broke in half, and pushed the shattered remains out of my way. The woman leaned against the wall to my left; she was taller than I, gaunt and thin, clad only in a torn, dirty shift.

“Who the hell are you,” she asked. “And why are you wearing my clothes?”

I realized who stood before me.

“I am Dejah Thoris,” I said. “Princess of Helium, and the adopted sister you have not yet met.”

“You’ve come to rescue me?”

“Yes.”

“Then I don’t mind if you’re mad. Just get me the hell out of here.”

I stepped aside from the doorway, but she stumbled as she stood and tried to walk. I handed her the torch.

“Hold this,” I said, and slipped my right arm behind her knees and my left behind her shoulders. “And hold on.”

“Why do you wear my colors, and what are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you.”

“So you said.”

“It is a long story. I am very good at killing people. I came here with Lyra, Jory, your cousin Beth, two fierce Wildlings and a band of House Mormont fighters as well as Reeds, Glovers and Manderlys to kill all the Freys and burn their castle. We believed you to be long dead.”

“So did I.”

“I come from very far away. Maege adopted me so I could fight in a trial by combat, but I have come to love your family.”

“How is my family?”

“All live. Maege has burned with grief over your murder. Your sisters have likewise mourned. As have I, for the sister I never knew.”

“And they accept you as our sister?”

“Three out of four.”

“All but the Little Bear.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll reserve judgement but breaking me out of that cell is certainly a good start toward sisterhood.”

She should have been slightly younger than Tansy, but looked older than Maege. Part of that could have come from the layer of dirt covering her entire body, but her hair was heavily streaked with gray and lines marked her face. The skin of the arm holding the torch in front of my face looked decidedly thin and unhealthy.

“How badly injured are you?”

“I’m very weak, as you can see. I was wounded by an axe, badly. They sewed it closed and it eventually healed, but not without repeated fevers. They raped me, beat me and starved me.”

“I have come on Maege’s order to kill them all and avenge your death.”

“I’d rather stay alive, if it’s all the same to you. But by all means carry on with the killing.”

“I shall. This is not my first castle onslaught.”

We neared the junction of the stairs.

“My sister Tansy awaits on the landing with Jory.”

“Another sister?”

“Yes, Maege adopted her as well. They have grown close, and helped one another overcome loss. I hope it does not distress you.”

“If I wanted things to stay the same, I should have stayed alive.”

“You are alive.”

“You _are_ from far away. It was a jest. A weak one, like me.”

“You will grow strong again.”

“So I hope,” she said. “Any other new sisters?”

“Along with Tansy, Maege formally adopted your cousin Beth Cassel. The Iron Born killed her father and burned her home.”

“Right. That happened before . . .  all of this. That’s good. She belonged with us all along.”

We came within sight of our sisters.

“I have rescued a prisoner,” I said. “It is . . .”

“ _Dacey!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next episode, Dejah Thoris and Beth Cassel are in hot pursuit of the River King.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Azor Ahai encounters the Hound.

Chapter Twelve

I placed Dacey Mormont’s feet on the pavement of the landing, but kept my arm around her waist. She leaned on me as Jory embraced her tightly and wept.

“Dejah,” Tansy said, “is this really . . .”

“Dacey Mormont,” Dacey Mormont said. “You’re my other new sister?”

“Tansy,” Tansy said, struck nearly speechless with surprise.

“Our sisters are fighting,” I said. “I must join them.”

I scooped Dacey Mormont back into my arms and rushed down the stairs as quickly as I dared. I noticed that Jory’s sword had been bloodied, but I did not ask how that had come to pass.

When we reached the landing, Lyra and Beth had already killed the three Frey guardsmen attempting to hold the position. Two corpses remained on the landing; Beth had run the third man through and kicked his dying body into the river. But the guards’ sacrifice had allowed their king to slip away in a boat.

The Freys had helpfully left a pair of torches stuck in sconces, lighting the scene. I stepped out onto the paving stones, still carrying Dacey.

“Dejah,” Lyra said. “That can’t be . . .”

“I found Dacey Mormont in a cell. She is alive.”

I placed Dacey on the pavement as gently as I could, with her back propped against the stone wall. Lyra knelt beside her, weeping. Jory joined her there. They touched their sister gently, as if unsure she really existed.

Tansy had moved apart to inspect the boats tied along the landing, and I walked over to see what she had found.

“They’ve tried to stave in the hulls,” she said, pointing to the damage. “And most of them are sinking. But I think this one can still be used.”

“We can pursue Walder Frey.”

“That’s right. If we leave right now.”

“You can operate this boat?”

“I’ve told you. I’m a Riverlands girl.”

I returned to my other sisters and squatted between Jory and Lyra next to Dacey.

“Walder Frey is escaping down the river. I mean to kill him, but we must go if we are to catch him.”

“Of course,” Dacey said.

“Tansy will operate the boat. I will take Beth with me as well. Lyra and Jory will remain with you, and see that you return to the North.”

I looked at Lyra.

“Kill all of the Freys. Put the prisoners to the sword or hang them from the bridge. All of them. Can you do this?”

“I can do this,” Lyra repeated. I was not sure that I believed her.

“Ask Ser Marlon to see to it if you cannot.”

“I’m in command in your absence, not Ser Marlon. I’ll do what must be done.”

I nodded, unhappy to put so much blood on her hands. But she was correct; we could not delegate this horrible task to another House and I was proud of my sister’s sense of duty.

“Send Dacey and all the fighters to Jojen Reed,” I told her. “I do not trust Lady Barbrey not to ambush them. He will escort them to a ship or the entire force will march to Winterfell and from there our people can go to Bear Island. Trust in Lord Glover’s judgement on this matter, but emphasize to him the need for caution regarding Barbrey Dustin.

“When the Freys are dead, Gendry will try to destroy the bridge. Whether he succeeds or not, burn the castle when the looting is complete. You and Jory take our horses, weapons and baggage and ride south along the river road’s eastern side. We will meet you there.”

I took off my Mormont surcoat and ring mail. Beth did the same.

“I love you both,” I said, softly touching Jory’s face and then Lyra’s. Both were wet with tears. “And Maege. Send her a raven telling of all that has happened here.”

I leaned forward and softly kissed Lyra; Dacey’s thoughts indicated surprise and disapproval but I did not care. Behind me, Toregg and Ryk had joined us, along with Melly the healer.

“The Mermen are in the hall,” Ryk said. “Some’ve started hunting Freys. The rest are waiting for orders.”

Melly knelt alongside Dacey and started to prod her. Dacey lifted her shift to show Melly her wound; our healer touched it gently and nodded.

“She’ll live,” she said. “Needs feeding. Needs to eat as much as our princess. But she’ll recover.”

“This is your sister,” I told Toregg. “The one we believed dead.”

“Hello,” he said, suddenly shy. He smiled at her, once again showing several missing teeth.

“A Wildling brother as well?” Dacey asked. “I _have_ been dead a long time.”

She showed no surprise; her thoughts indicated that she had long suspected that she had been fathered by one of the Free Folk.

“We came to avenge you,” he said. “You don’t mind if we keep avenging, seeing’s how you’re, you know, not dead?”

“Not at all.”

“Beth, Tansy and I are leaving by boat,” I told Toregg. “You and Ryk remain here with Lyra and Jory, and ride with them to join us after the castle burns. Help them carry Dacey upstairs.”

He nodded, and slapped his brother-by-law on the shoulder.

“We must go _now_!” Tansy shouted at me.

“Princess,” Dacey said. “Thank you. And please kill Walder.”

“I shall do so.”

“And come back safely. I want to meet my newest sisters.”

I hesitated. I did not wish to leave without Lyra.

“I’ll be fine,” Lyra said, taking my hand. “I’ll be with you as soon as I can. Just look for us on the river road, on this bank.”

“I love you,” I said.

“I know,” she answered.

“Get into the damned boat,” Tansy said, already inside and holding it alongside the stone landing.

I released Lyra’s hand, but Dacey took my hand in both of her weak ones.

“My mother chose well,” she said. “Now go.”

Beth and I scrambled into the boat. Tansy pushed it away from the castle using one of the oars she found in the bottom. The current caught the boat and we began to move swiftly downstream. 

* * *

Tansy stroked hard, bringing the boat into the middle of the river. She whispered to Beth to tell me to crawl forward to join her, so I did, being very careful not to rock the boat. This craft was different than that Ser Davos had used in Duskendale, much narrower. Apparently one leaned over the side to the paddle it rather than pulling large heavy oars. Tansy used a hook-like motion to drive the boat swiftly through the water.

“Can you feel them?” she whispered when I moved next to her.

“Yes. They are at the very edge of my range, but I believe they are still on the river.”

“How many?”

I concentrated.

“Seven. Walder, an older man, an older woman, four soldiers who are rowing the boat. They are not doing so very strenuously. The woman is berating them.”

“I really should have taught you how to do this. As strong as you are, we could overtake them easily.”

“Show me now.”

“If you do it wrong, you’re also strong enough to tip the boat over, and you can’t swim. Or even float.”

“That is a problem.”

“Not a huge one if they’re not trying to escape.”

“Beth,” she hissed. “Have you rowed a boat before?”

“No,” she whispered back.

“I’ll tire eventually,” Tansy said. “But we’ll try to make up some distance during the night. We have a smaller boat and, if they have seven on board theirs, perhaps a faster one.”

I settled into the bottom of the boat, propping my head on a piece of canvas, and Beth soon snuggled against me. She appeared unaware of the choice I had made in King Walder’s tawdry throne room: able to protect only one of my sisters from the deadly crossbows, I had stepped in front of Lyra, not Beth. I could easily have been killed, and I had not hesitated to lay down my life for Lyra and to ignore the peril faced by Beth. I had had no inkling that Asha Greyjoy would sacrifice her own life for my sister who had hated her.

When I turned my head to look at Beth, she leaned forward and kissed me. I returned it, still feeling a heavy guilt.

“You saved my life,” she whispered. “That Frey had me. I was dead. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I protected Lyra from the crossbows and left you alone.”

“And Asha took those bolts meant for me. If you’d stepped in front of me instead, Lyra would be dead. And you too, unless you can stop three of them with your sword. I couldn’t live knowing that you’d left her to die and saved me.”

“I did not know how to choose.”

“You chose rightly. We’re all alive.”

She kissed me again, urgently, taking my breast in her hand and forcing her tongue into my mouth.

“I love you,” she whispered. “Nothing will ever change that.”

I returned her kiss, and then carefully sat upright.

“They have pulled over to the shore,” I said, pointing over Tansy’s shoulder toward the eastern bank. “They are getting out of the boat. They do not know that we follow.”

Tansy steered in that direction.

“How do you want to play this?” she whispered.

“Come close to the shore,” I calculated the distance in their units, “about one hundred yards upstream from them. I will show you where. Beth and I will wade ashore and kill them.”

She nodded, and began to slow our pace. I held my hand out flat in front of her when we had reached the point I desired, and she “backed water” to bring the boat to a near-stop. Beth and I slid quietly over the side and waded through the reeds and then mud to solid ground, keeping only our heads and our weapons above water. We took off our sodden woolen tunics when we reached solid ground to allow freer movement.

We crept forward through tall reeds, and I stopped when we had drawn close but still could not see them; since I could read their thoughts there was no reason to expose ourselves to detection. The Frey party had not set out a perimeter of guards; the four soldiers stood in a cluster talking quietly among themselves while the other three remained next to their boat and bickered.

I whispered their locations to Beth, and told her to follow close behind me. I moved stealthily to the edge of the reeds, and then rushed forward with a crazed scream, cutting down two of the Frey soldiers with my first swing. Another died on the back-swing while Beth ran the fourth through as he stared at her with wide eyes.

At the riverbank, a rather fat and well-dressed man shakily pointed a sword at us. I stalked toward him, ready to cut him down as well. The lordling dropped his weapon and held up his hands. A woman standing behind him gave him a sneering look.

“You’ve just surrendered to two naked women,” she said.

“Half-naked,” he corrected her. “Who just cut down four guardsmen in less than a minute.”

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Lady Genna Lannister,” the woman said. “This is my so-called husband, Lord Emmon Frey of Riverrun.”

She was an older woman, obviously related to Cersei: she had two of the largest breasts I had ever seen, each easily greater in size than my head. Her gown had been cut to put their pale, pinkish flesh on display. She wore a jeweled necklace over them.

“You are a Frey by marriage?”

“I remain a Lannister first.”

“The jewels are authentic?”

“I am a Lannister! Of course they’re authentic! Diamonds, rubies and pearls.”

“Kneel,” I said.

“You mean to murder me here? Then I will die on my feet as befits . . .”

I ran her through before she could finish her speech. She had expected to be taken for ransom. Her eyes went wide and she fell directly backwards into the shallows, dying a very surprised woman.

“Please don’t kill me,” her husband said. “Whatever you want. Money. Lands. You could marry me now my wife’s dead and Riverrun would be yours.”

“You are a Frey?”

“Son of the king.”

“You were at the Red Wedding?”

“No.”

I hesitated, though I cannot say why. I had already killed his wife, who was only a Frey by marriage, and at this point there was little chance that I would spare his life. Before I could act, Beth stuck her sword’s point into the base of his throat. 

“The Mormonts send their regards.”

He fell to his knees in the mud, gagging. We left him there and approached the so-called King Walder as Tansy waded out of the river.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Boat sank,” she said simply, pulling off her tunic and wringing out the water.

“You have some fine teardrop tits, Tully girl,” King Walder spoke up. “I could make you legitimate, and my River Queen. I’m told I need a new one, thanks to the little Cassel bitch.”

Beth snarled, but did not strike him dead.

“Hoster Tully should have given me one of his trueborn daughters, but he thought his bloodline too good to mix with mine. Didn’t stop him from mixing it with some whore’s. ‘Family, Duty, Honor.’ Hoster made mockery of all three of his family words when it came to you.

“You’re old, but not yet too old. It’s too bad about that scar, but I’ll put an heir in your belly all the same and the Freys will be kings for centuries to come.”

Tansy made the scoffing sound that indicated scornful disbelief.

“You wouldn’t survive, grave bait. I would fuck you to death.”

“I know who belongs to all of these tits,” Walder said, proudly repeating his prattle from the throne room. “The Tully bastard, the little Cassel bitch and the Queenslayer. Sent by the Starks, no doubt, a house too weak to do their own killing. But there’s no one left since I killed them all. They’ll not dishonor my House again.”

He cackled.

“The Starks indeed are dead,” I said, “and soon to be forgotten. As is House Frey. All three of us are daughters of House Mormont. You took our sister Dacey captive for years, beat her, raped her, let her family believe her dead.”

“I enjoyed the Young She-Bear. Wasn’t ready to give up my fun. Big high tits, before she got all skinny. Heh.”

“Now you will die for your crimes.”

I grabbed the king by his collar and pulled him off his little chair onto the riverbank mud where he cringed on his knees in front of me. His thoughts revealed a great deal of self-pity, but the River King had no final words, not even about tits. I cleaved his skull and most of his body in half with an overhead swing and then kicked his corpse into the river. It broke into two pieces and floated away.

I took Gemma Lannister’s necklace and stuffed it into the top of my leggings. Lord Emmon still lived, struggling for breath, but had fallen forward and now sprawled full length on the river bank. I put my foot on the back of his head and pressed his face into the mud while I cleaned my sword with a handful of cloth I had torn from the front of his wife’s gown. Soon he stopped breathing.

“There went my chance to be the River Queen,” Tansy said.

“We could still go back.”

“Walder Frey was the first man to ask for my hand in years. Maybe the first one ever who wasn’t drunk at the time. And you had to go and cut him in half.”

“He did not ask nicely.”

“His mistake.” 

* * *

We walked along a narrow path away from the river, three women wearing only leggings, boots and short leather skirts, carrying two swords and several daggers, some alcohol and bandages, a stolen necklace and nothing else. Tansy still had her wet black tunic, but Beth and I were unable to find where we had dropped ours among the reeds.

I only felt slightly queasy from my journey in the boat; the water sloshing in my boots made my feet sore so I took them off and carried them. Shortly afterwards we found the cart track that followed the river bank and walked southwards along it.

We had no food or money; none of the six corpses still sprawled by the riverbank had carried anything of use. I hoped that someone would try to rob us soon so I could kill them and take their coins and provisions. But we encountered no one. I kept scanning for our sisters but could not detect their thoughts. That was rather foolish of me, as they could not possibly have even left the Twins by this time, let alone traveled downriver to find us. I felt a deep longing for Lyra’s presence, for her thoughts mingled with mine.

Tansy seemed pleased to have escaped her would-be husband. Beth’s thoughts showed her somewhat disturbed over the fight in the throne room, but she considered this a wonderful adventure and she was otherwise having a great deal of fun. Both of them had known hunger on a first-name basis; I was the only privileged one among us and I sorely felt the lack of food. I had not eaten since just after nightfall.

Soon after reaching the road we nestled together in a bed of dry leaves amid the roots of a large tree; my companions enjoyed the presence of my body heat which was much greater than theirs. I felt very much at ease with them on either side of me, but my gnawing hunger made it difficult to sleep.

“Safe with you,” Beth whispered as she nestled next to me and tried to relax; while I did not purposely read her thoughts I could tell that the night’s events had left her sexually aroused. I had noted that with some people of this planet, the closeness of death somehow triggered a need to procreate.

“Safe with you, too,” I answered. She looked silently into my eyes, and pulled my hand to her bare breast; even this close, I could not make out her freckles in the moonless darkness. She placed one finger on my lips to signal her desire for silence.

Tired from rowing the small boat, Tansy soon fell deeply asleep on my other side. Beth guided my hand between her legs. I reached into her to stroke her pleasure organ, and soon she received orgasm, biting my shoulder to stifle her scream and whimpering as her body shuddered. I kissed her but did not share her orgasm; my mind remained too troubled to lose myself in such joyful release. Tansy did not awaken.

* * *

I awoke in the early afternoon amid a tangle of arms, breasts and legs. It was a pleasant tangle, but I had to rise. My telepathic senses had alerted me that someone approached, moving northward up the cart track. Three mounted men, their thoughts at this distance showing only caution and no other details. I hoped they were bad people, so that I could kill them without upsetting my sister. It troubled me that I seemed to only consider simple moral principles in terms of how Tansy would react, but I shoved those thoughts aside to concentrate on the present. I roused my sisters and told them what approached.

“Let’s meet them,” Tansy said. “If it goes wrong, kill them.”

My sister had surprised me.

“What?” she asked. “I don’t intend to be taken captive ever again.”

We stepped into the road and walked toward the oncoming travelers, with Tansy on my left and Beth on my right. Soon enough we spotted them, and halted while they approached.

“I’ve had this dream before,” said their leader, a balding man dressed in leather armor. “Three beautiful, nearly-naked women step out of the woods and say they’ve been waiting just for me.”

He dismounted and approached on foot.

“Ser Bronn of the Blackwater,” he bowed and introduced himself. “The somber fellow is Sandor Clegane, known as the Hound. And the one who’s all tied up is Jaime Lannister, formerly King of the Andals and such.”

“The Kingslayer,” Beth growled. “I’m going to kill him.”

She drew her sword, dropped the scabbard and charged at the Lannister, who was tied to his horse and had not dismounted. His hands were also bound, and I suspected that the cloth looped around his neck had been used as a gag.

Bronn stepped in front of my mistress and drew his own sword in a swift motion, blocking her attack. She tried to get past him but he very deftly kept himself between her and his prisoner. They traded blows but neither was interested in harming the other; Beth wanted to get to the Lannister, and Bronn fought to keep her away. He carefully made no strike of his own, only parries. Had he thought to harm my sister I would have joined her and killed him.

Clegane dismounted and drew a huge sword from over his back. I pulled my own sword into guard position and faced him, but he did not attack. He was one of the largest men I had seen here, though not as broad across the shoulders as the Mighty Pig, and he had hideous burns on one side of his face.

“What’s she on about?” he asked in a raspy voice that matched his face.

“I do not know.”

“Call her off.”

“Beth. That is enough. Come here to me.”

She slowly backed away from Bronn, who watched her carefully before sheathing his sword. Clegane put his away; I lowered mine and put my other arm around Beth’s waist, both to lend comfort and to hold her back if necessary. Her thoughts indicated rage, and an eagerness to prove herself in battle that I could not fully understand. I returned my sword to its scabbard and gestured to my mistress to do the same.

I noted that Tansy carefully moved to keep me between her and the men; Bronn noticed as well. He nodded and spoke.

“That’s better. We should talk things over like civilized persons. There’s an inn just down the road.”

“We have no money,” I said. “But we are very hungry.”

He sighed.

“Always like a woman. Alright, I’m buying. But much as I like the view, you’ll all need to wear something a bit less . . . enticing.”

He walked to the Lannister’s horse and removed a large bag strapped to the back of his saddle. He opened it and took out three white, billowy tunics, cautiously handing them to Beth.

“Those are my shirts!” the Lannister protested.

“What’s yours is mine, your grace,” Bronn answered. “Beginning with your noble person and extending to your clothing as well.”

We put them on and all walked southward down the cart track, with Bronn and Clegane now on foot and leading their horses. The Lannister remained tied to his saddle.

“I’m sorry, Dejah,” Beth said softly to me. “That was undisciplined. I dishonored you.”

“Do not let it happen again,” I said, equally softly. “You are here on a mission for our House, not to seek your own vengeance.”

Bronn approached before she could reply.

“You’re the Queenslayer,” he said in an amiable tone, and pointed at the Lannister with his thumb. “This one here put a price on your head.”

“That bitch seduced my sister,” the Lannister said. “And then murdered her!”

“Cersei wished to murder my sister,” I retorted. “So I sporked her first.”

“Sporked?” Bronn asked.

“A spork is an eating instrument, much like a spoon but with sharp points like a fork. I shoved it between her breasts and into her heart.”

“I see. Truly a multi-purpose utensil. Who are your friends?”

“My sisters Tansy and Beth, adoptive daughters of House Mormont. I am Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium, also an adopted daughter of House Mormont.”

He did not hesitate at my calling Tansy or Beth “sister,” simply greeting them each politely. Clegane grunted at each of us; his thoughts said he considered that a great effort at courtesy.

“She took my sword!” the Lannister complained. “And mutilated it!”

“You left it in Brienne’s chest and said I could have it, along with your cloak and armor.”

“I was upset and not thinking straight,” he said. “I didn’t think you were real.”

“You were correct. I am not of this world.”

I would let the Lannister think on that.

“So Lannister killed Brienne?” Bronn continued his questions.

“It was a fair fight!”

“He did,” I said, “and it was not. She had beaten him, and granted him mercy. She dropped her sword, told him that she loved him and began to weep. He picked up her sword, told her that he had never loved her, and put it through her heart. She whispered his name and died.”

“Only after she begged me to do it!”

“This is why you have no friends, Lannister,” Bronn said. “The one woman who ever loved you for yourself, and you ran her through. And taunted her while you did it!”

“I loved Cersei, until this bitch killed her.”

“You loved looking into the mirror, you sick fuck.”

Bronn turned back to me.

“Word is you killed Aurane Waters, too.”

“He kidnapped my sister. I killed his lover and most of his crew. And I sank his pirate ship. I also killed twenty-one of the Holy Hundred.”

“That last,” the Lannister said, “couldn’t have been that difficult.”

“It was easier to capture your squire,” I told him, “and take his pants.”

“What brings such a hero to the South,” Bronn asked, “topless, penniless and horseless?”

“We had an encounter with Walder Frey. He fled by boat. We pursued.”

“And how fares old King Walder?”

“He floats down the river in two halves.”

“You objected to all the talk of tits?”

“He wanted to marry my sister, but did not ask nicely.”

“I’m guessing here, and it’s only a guess mind you, that threatening your sister is not the best of ideas.”

“You would be correct. I am very good at killing people.”

“And you were at the Twins because?”

“They murdered Dacey Mormont, our adoptive sister.” I did not think it wise to reveal that Dacey still lived, not until she had safely reached Bear Island. “Lady Maege Mormont, our adoptive mother, directed us to seek vengeance. We killed them all and burned their castle.”

“All of the Freys?”

“All of them in the castle.”

“Both of their castles?”

“Just the one on this side. We will kill the rest later, and burn that castle as well.”

“Winter came for House Frey,” Beth added. “Half of it, anyway.”

“You’re not from Westeros,” Bronn observed. “Not originally. What brought you across the sea?”

“I seek my husband, John Carter. Also known as Khal John of the Dothraki.”

He stopped walking.

“We escaped King’s Landing just ahead of his Dothraki and his sellswords. He is a very angry man, princess.”

“John Carter is here? In Westeros?”

“With tens of thousands of men at his back. They’ve taken King’s Landing and are fanning out to the north and west from there.”

“You have seen him?”

“Not personally. But the word is he seeks his wife’s killer. You appear to be very much alive.”

“You know many words.”

“It keeps me among the living. That’s not easy with the Dothraki on the loose. They’re raping and burning on a scale worse than anything seen in the last war. And we all thought that the end of the world.”

Murder and destruction visited on the common people, because I could not contain my jealous rage at Daenerys Targaryen. I could have attempted to win back John Carter with my beauty and my skills at seduction; I had done so before. Instead I had simply cut off my rival’s head, and now many innocents suffered for my crime.

“The word also said that the Lannister had been killed by a dragon.”

“So it did. This coward realized that the Dragon Queen had never seen him, and only had a vague description. He sent his childhood friend Addam Marbrand out to treat with her in his place, since he looked a little like a Lannister, and he was the one who burned.

“I realized that Jaime Lannister would be a very valuable commodity, what with so many people just as eager to kill him as your freckled friend here. Or to keep him alive; it truly makes no difference to me as long as they pay. So I grabbed him and left King’s Landing. We hid out for a while and met up with Clegane a little later; he’s helping guard this prize in exchange for drinking money. I’m hoping to take ship in Seagard and sail to the west.”

Bronn nodded to my mistress.

“You see why I couldn’t let you kill him,” he said. “I’d not have crossed swords with you elsewise; no harm or insult intended.”

Beth nodded her acceptance of the partial apology; she still did not like conversing with men she did not know.

“That’s a Valyrian blade you wield, is it not?”

“Aye,” she said.

“You might be as fast as me,” Bronn said. “And I’ve not said that often. Maybe never. But that sword is too long for your height.”

“We had no means to cut it down for her,” I said.

“Aye, a Valyrian blade is a rare thing and not to be despised,” he agreed. “I have a proposal.”

He set down the canvas bag he’d removed from the Lannister’s horse and pulled out what was obviously a sword wrapped in leather.

“You can’t!” the Lannister said.

“I can and I will. I took it from you fair and square. Just as you took it from the Starks, though you did so somewhat less fair and square. What with chopping off old Ned Stark’s head and all.”

He unwrapped the bundle and unsheathed a sword of Valyrian steel with a blade showing a red-and-gray ripple pattern almost identical to mine. I recognized the absurd lion on its pommel and the pattern of gold and jewels; it was a slightly smaller twin to my sword as I had first found it, before Gendry removed the ridiculous decorations.

“This sword briefly belonged to Lannister’s bastard son, King Joffrey,” Bronn said. “The little shit named it ‘Widow’s Wail.’ Old Tywin Lannister had this blade and the princess’ over there re-forged from Ned Stark’s greatsword. Jaime had it on him when I snatched him.”

I felt uneasy looking at the sword; clearly, this was the blade Howland Reed had described long ago.

“I’d like a longer blade,” Bronn said, looking at me. “A sword not so obviously of Lannister origin. Your friend needs a shorter one; she’s a woman grown and won’t grow into the one she has. So let’s swap this sword for hers. Valyrian blade for Valyrian blade. I’ll throw in the shirts and two hundred of Lannister’s golden dragons.

“A woman can’t match a man for strength. But that matters little if she wields Valyrian steel. The light weight and amazing edge more than compensate.”

I nodded to Beth. She handed me her sword and carefully took King Joffrey’s blade from Bronn. She stepped away from us and went through the sword exercises, testing its balance. The sword was only a little shorter than Corbray’s old blade, but that made a great difference. She felt much more at ease with it. She gave a wide smile and nodded to me.

“Deal,” I said.

Bronn took Beth’s old sword from me and looked down the dark gray blade.

“Where did you get this one?”

“I killed Lyn Corbray in a trial by combat and took his sword. He had a name for it and an endless story.”

“Lady Forlorn. Corbray was a renowned fighter.”

Clegane grunted agreement.

“He talked too much.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“You will sell the Lannister?” I asked.

“Sell him, ransom him, accept a reward for his safe return. Whatever puts the coin in my hand, Princess.”

“How much do you want for him?”

“You want to buy him?”

“Yes.”

“I assure you,” the Lannister said. “You cannot afford my services. You are but a princess. I make love only to queens.”

“Did she kick her left leg for you, too?” Tansy asked, an unpleasant smile on her face.

The Lannister tried to leap off the horse to attack Tansy, but was held tightly in place by his bonds. He squirmed and grunted.

“No offense, Jaime,” Bronn said, “but this is business.”

“You said we were friends,” the Lannister whined. “We had adventures together!”

“I lied. I have no friends. Only business interests.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next episode, Dejah Thoris proves that a chicken bone can be a powerful weapon.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris samples potato soup.

Chapter Thirteen

We had reached the inn. The innkeeper recognized us and gave us a large table to ourselves.

“The Kingslayer, the Queenslayer and the Hound walk into a tavern with Ser Bronn and Sweet Tansy,” he said. “No one will ever believe that’s not the first line of a poor jest.”

We took our benches across from one another, women facing men. I asked for three roasted chickens, as did Clegane. The others ordered smaller portions. Bronn paid the innkeeper and turned back to us. Food and drink soon appeared. My sisters and I each took a flagon of ale while Bronn untied the Lannister’s hands.

“Rare to see a woman choose ale,” Bronn observed. “Not when wine’s on the table.”

“Lead is used to seal containers of wine,” I said. “And often added as a sweetener.”

“Aye,” he nodded. “So I’ve heard. Your point?”

“Ingesting lead will make a person both stupid and insane.”

Clegane halted the path of his flagon to his lips, shrugged, and drank deeply.

“In our life,” Bronn said, “odds are you’ll die of a sword to the gut long before poisoned wine can kill you.”

“I do not intend to die young,” I said, “nor to see my sisters do so.”

“You know as well as I that luck trumps skill.”

He studied his own wine, then repeated Clegane’s shrug, lifted the flagon and drank.

“Why do you actually want Lannister?” he asked me.

“He murdered my sister’s brother. She would like to kill him. I would grant her this wish.”

“Who was your brother?” the Lannister addressed Beth.

“Jory Cassel.”

“Who?”

“Captain of Eddard Stark’s personal guard.”

“Stark’s guard captain,” the Lannister mused. “I don’t really recall . . . oh yes. Ragged brown hair just like yours. Wasn’t much of a fight. Pinned his sword with my right hand and put a dagger in his eye with my left. He never saw it coming.”

I pulled Beth back to our side of the table.

“How much do you want for him?” I asked Bronn.

“I have to confess,” Bronn said, “that I hadn’t really thought this part through. A thousand dragons?”

“We would have to pay that at our island. I could give you this and take the Lannister instead.”

I laid Genna Lannister’s necklace on the table. Bronn gave it an interested look.

“Are those real?” he asked. “If so, we might just have the makings of a deal, if I can figure how to sell it. I’d still want 500 dragons, but I could wait for those.”

“That’s my aunt’s necklace!” the Lannister exclaimed. “How did you get that?”

“I killed her,” Beth said. “I told her the Mormonts sent their regards as my sword went through her heart. Wasn’t much of a fight.”

I had been the one to kill Genna Lannister, and Beth had delivered her line to Emmon Frey rather than to his wife. But my former apprentice had correctly deduced that Jaime Lannister had loved his aunt, and her murder drove him to berserk fury. Bronn grabbed his shoulders and pinned him to the bench; Clegane helped.

“She raised me after my mother died!” the Lannister shouted, drawing stares from the rest of the common room. “You had no right to murder her, you little bitch.”

“Just like Jory raised me after _my_ mother died, sister-fucker.”

“I’m not the only one at this table fucking their sister.”

Beth reached across the table and slapped him.

“If you were a man,” she said, “I’d challenge and kill you.”

“Enough,” Bronn said. “When we have a deal, you can cut him loose, give him a sword and run him through. Or just cut him slowly to pieces. Burn him alive, bury him in sand, makes no difference to me. The customer’s always right.”

“It is certainly possible that you could be paid more elsewhere,” I said. “But you would have to deliver the Lannister there. His constant whining will attract attention wherever he goes.”

“You can’t buy the right to murder me!” the Lannister whined.

I slapped him myself, just hard enough to raise red finger-shaped lines on his face.

“You should not have called me ‘bitch’,” I said. “That will cost you your life.”

Bronn rubbed his chin with one hand. I was starting to like this mercenary; his thoughts were purely mercenary, one might say, and he seemed to have no hidden motives – he made his greed and utter lack of scruples very plain.

“I think we can make an arrangement. He killed this lady’s brother with his left hand, he says. That’s the one he still has. I’ll trade you the left hand for the necklace.”

“What? You can’t do that! I’m the king!”

“You _were_ the king. Now you’re an asset, and I’m selling you off in pieces.”

He turned back to me.

“What do you think?”

“Would taking the hand that killed Jory Cassel ease your mind?” I asked Beth.

“Make the deal,” she said, a growl in her voice.

“Are you really going to do this?” Tansy asked. “It’s perverse.”

“I like it,” Clegane spoke for the first time.

“That’s not an endorsement.”

“It’s not like she’d be taking his life,” Bronn said. “Just his hand.”

“That’s not the point!” Tansy slammed both hands on the table. “You can’t go chopping off body parts out of vengeance!”

“You wished to kill Catelyn Stark,” I said.

“Really?” Clegane asked. “So did I.”

“Shut up, Hound,” Tansy said. “Dejah, Beth isn’t like us. Not yet. We are hard people. She’s not. Don’t let her become hard, too.”

“I could take the hand off for you,” Bronn offered. “Half price.”

“He murdered Jory,” Beth said, still very angry. “We just slaughtered an entire castle full of women and children because we thought they’d killed Dacey. And Dejah killed Daenerys for fucking her husband. How is this any different?”

She instantly regretted her words, but they were already out and heard.

“You’ve killed _two_ queens?” Bronn asked.

“Yes,” I said. “And Beth has killed one. This land has a surplus of royalty. But Tansy is right. Beth is much younger than I. Let me think on this.”

“Which queen did you kill?” Bronn asked Beth.

“Walder’s wife,” she said. “I don’t know her name.”

“Queen Elsbeth,” he told her. “They call her Busty Betsy. Or they did before you did her in.”

While they spoke I stared at the ceiling, eating my chicken and scanning the thoughts of my companions. Clegane admired our breasts through the translucent white silk of the Lannister’s shirts and hoped someone would buy him more wine. I stretched my arms behind my head to improve his view, a silly vanity but I enjoyed his reaction. The Lannister thought it worth losing his remaining hand if he could kill me, but could not think of how to do so. Tansy grew angry with all of us, as did Beth. Bronn saw his profit slipping away.

“Princess, listen to me,” he said. “We both know that the graveyards are full of good, kind people. Clegane and I have put a lot of them there and I’d wager you have too. You can’t protect your lovely friend here from the real world.”

“The whore’s right,” Clegane said suddenly.

“Do not call her . . .”

“How did you . . .”

“Women become hard as you two ways,” the Hound answered Tansy, “and I don’t think you ever killed no one.”

“So why am I right?”

“Because of the money,” Clegane said. “Vengeance is a, a part of you. Something you hunger for. Something you have to feed yourself. You can’t pay for it.

“Oh, the rich shits in their castles, they can pay for it and think they have vengeance. Not us. Not anyone sitting at this table can pay for it and claim to have it. Even Freckles here has seen and done things, it’s in her eyes. But you know that better than any of us, whore.”

“I will kill you . . .”

“No, Dejah. I get what he’s saying. Paid vengeance is no different than paid sex. No feeling. No passion.”

“That’s what I said.”

“But what I meant was,” Tansy continued, “seeking vengeance kills you inside the same way whoring does.”

Clegane stared at her.

“You’re starting to make sense. I need more wine.”

“I’m not getting that necklace, am I?” Bronn asked.

“So what am I supposed to do?” Beth broke in. “Jory is still dead because of this sister-fucker.”

“I remember you,” Clegane said to Beth. “Your father was Stark’s master-at-arms. You were one of Sansa Stark’s flock of little Northern birds, in a little gray dress. And now you’ve grown big tits and carry a fancy sword. How many Freys did you kill?”

“I don’t know. Twenty? The princess killed most of them.”

“Was it sweet?”

“Maybe,” she drawled the word slowly, not liking what Clegane implied but unable to disagree.

Before they could continue, Bronn had a sudden realization.

“If you killed Daenerys, then you killed Tyrion too, didn’t you?”

I saw no point in lying. I probably should have.

“He would not stop talking. I put my sword in his heart and twisted the blade.”

In that moment, he decided to kill all three of us and attempt to collect the reward posted by John Carter for his wife’s killer. He moved with amazing speed, at one instant stretching out his arm, in the next making a wide sweeping cut with a large curved dagger aimed right at my face. My telepathy gave me just enough warning to duck under it while pressing Beth’s head to the table; I could not bring up my sword from where I had propped it against the table before he swung the blade back at me. Armed with the leg bone of a chicken, I hurled myself across the table and tackled him.

I had my left hand on the wrist of his right, which held the dagger; I could not get a firm enough grip to simply crush his wrist bones. With his left he grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled as hard as he could; with my right I punched him in the side, breaking several ribs. We both made a whole series of feral sounds; I saw many feet fleeing the tavern. He pulled us closer together to stop the punching, bringing his shoulder in front of my face. His tunic and ringed armor had slipped downward as we wrestled, baring his skin. So I bit him. He let out a loud grunt of pain and let go of my hair.

As I scrabbled for enough purchase to either punch him in the ribs again or grind my knee into his genitals, he dropped the dagger. The Lannister picked up it, thinking how he would stab me in the back and then kill Bronn. At that moment Bronn tried to head-butt me, but striking my reinforced skull with his merely mortal head dazed him and gave me the opening to jam the chicken bone into his throat. A spray of blood erupted.

I saw the dagger fall to the floor, followed by the slumping body of the Lannister. Beth had stabbed him in the eye with her new sword. I leapt to my feet and looked for my sword, ready to face Clegane. I spat out a mouthful of the mercenary’s blood and flesh.

Beth had already pushed Tansy behind her and stood glaring at The Hound, in ready position with her sword in both hands and mine stuck in the floor next to her. But Clegane had not moved other than to pick up his flagon of wine.

“You fight dirty,” he said to me, and took a long pull of his drink. “I like that.”

“Are you planning to drink or fight?”

“Drink. Dwarf wasn’t worth fighting for while he lived, sure as the seven hells isn’t now he’s dead. I’m not even sure I want to fight anymore, but I am sure I want to drink. You’ve got money now. Sit down and buy us a new round.”

Bronn lay on the floor gagging. I found a cloth on a nearby table and cleaned his blood off my face, then rinsed my mouth with some wine and spat it onto the floor.

“What about your friend?” I asked.

“You heard him,” Clegane said. “He has no friends. Probably should kill him; choking’s a nasty end.”

Beth stepped over and slipped her sword into Bronn’s chest and through his heart. The gagging sounds stopped. She handed my sword to me. I gave her the cloth and she wiped down her sword.

The handful of customers had now emptied the tavern. The innkeeper surveyed the carnage and kept wringing his hands together in a nervous gesture.

“How much is his trouble worth?” I asked Tansy.

“Ten golden dragons,” she said. I handed her Bronn’s purse and she paid the innkeeper. He brightened considerably. She laid down an eleventh coin. “Give the Hound a room and all the wine he wants, and fill a sack with bread, sausages and cheese for us.”

“We must leave now,” I told Clegane. “If you want a place, go to Winterfell and tell Ser Davos Seaworth I sent you. Warrior or not, you can join us if you like when we return to the North. If we return to the North.”

He said nothing, but raised his flagon toward me and nodded. We left the tavern, taking both Valyrian steel swords, the bag of clothes and other items and all of Bronn’s money. I dragged both corpses to the river and threw them in; with King Jaime widely believed killed in King’s Landing, without a body to provide proof perhaps stories of the fight at the tavern would be taken as wild rumor.

* * *

Tansy remained unhappy as we mounted the horses formerly belonging to Bronn and the Lannister. She and Beth rode together, with Beth in front of Tansy.

“Do you feel any better now?” she asked Beth.

“Jory’s still dead. But I feel like I finally did something for my father. I think he would be proud of me right now. So yes, I’m glad the Kingslayer’s dead, and I’m glad I’m the one who killed him. And I’m damned tired of being called a ‘little bitch.’ I’m only an inch or so shorter than Dejah.

“But you were right. It wouldn’t have felt right if Dejah just bought him for me, like a pig for slaughter.”

Tansy did not seem mollified.

“You were not always this way, sister,” I said. “What troubles you?”

She looked around before answering.

“We can switch up and I’ll ride ahead,” Beth offered.

“No,” Tansy answered her. “You’re my sister. Our sister.”

Beth turned around in the saddle to look at Tansy’s face.

“I really do look up to both of you. I don’t want to disappoint you, Tansy.”

Tansy rubbed her shoulders, leaned forward and kissed her beneath her right ear.

“You haven’t. Not in the least. It’s not really anything to do with you. I love you, and you’ve been nothing but brave and loyal.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. She smiled often; I liked that.

Tansy thought for a few moments.

“You knew Arya Stark?”

“We grew up together as children. My mother died birthing me, and Lord Stark wanted me raised with his children. I was of an age with Sansa and Jeyne. I was a soldier’s daughter; my father and Jory, who was actually my cousin, wanted me to be a lady. I tried to be like the other girls even though I secretly wanted to play with swords like Arya. So Arya and I weren’t that close but we did know each other all of our lives. Until King Robert came to Winterfell, and she left for King’s Landing.”

“Dejah and I found Arya in Maidenpool. She rode north with us until she was killed in a tavern fight a few days north of the Twins.”

“I was still held by slavers then, but I’ve heard the story.”

“Probably not all of it. You know that Arya was my niece, by blood at least.”

Beth nodded.

“I look like Catelyn and Sansa and she came to see me as a sort of stand-in for her mother, who had been killed by then. And I came to see her as the daughter I didn’t have, and could never have. It probably wasn’t very healthy for either of us.”

“I’m a little old to be your daughter,” Beth said. “Plus we’ve been fucking.”

“And I’ve enjoyed every second of it,” Tansy said. “Maege’s influence has me wanting to look after you, Jory and the Little Bear, even though Lyanna rejects me. Maege has taught me that I have something to offer my younger sisters. So I try.

“Anyway, Arya had trained to be an assassin, and I saw her headed down a very dark path. I didn’t want that for her, and had no idea how to turn her away from it. I saw you headed the same way and I guess it called up those memories.

“You’re a woman grown and can make your own way. And I don’t really disagree with your choices.”

“I think I understand. Thank you for caring about me. I’m glad I’m here with you.”

“So am I.”

I loved Beth Cassel fiercely. Her relentlessly high spirits had become even more important to my well-being. I found it difficult to sink into morose thoughts about John Carter and his alleged marriage to Daenerys Targaryen in the presence of her happiness. Whatever happened in this world, despite all the horrors she’d witnessed and suffered, Beth Cassel was glad to be a part of it.

* * *

We rode south, putting distance between ourselves and the scene of the fight in the roadside tavern. I slipped into self-reflection. John Carter had landed in Westeros, and as Daenerys had foretold, he had come here to kill me. I could seek him out and meet my fate, or I could flee to Bear Island with my sisters in hopes that he would not find me there.

Did I even have a place on Bear Island any longer? I had restored Dacey to the Mormonts, their actual daughter and sister. They had no further need for a poor substitute. Whether they still loved me or not, I loved them and I would not bring devastation to the island. Tansy and Beth loved me, had shared their love with me in their thoughts, and I had to protect them from danger as well. How then could I ride forward, either?

Perhaps John Carter would remember me again when he saw me, and remember that he had once loved me, and spare my sisters. I would willingly die to protect them.

“Sister,” Beth said as she climbed onto my horse, giving Tansy’s a break from carrying two women. “What troubles you?”

“You call me sister?”

“I’ve called you sister for a long time now. You’re having doubts about everything.”

“Bronn spoke the truth. John Carter is here, he seeks me, and he means to kill me.”

“Only if he kills me first,” Beth said.

“I will not allow you to sacrifice yourself.”

“It’s not up to you. You wanted me to choose you as my sister. I have. And that means I’ll die for you, if need be.”

Asha Greyjoy had said something very similar, and had died upholding her oath.

Beth leaned far back in the saddle, pulled my face to hers and kissed me with her mouth closed. I kissed her back. She opened her mouth and I felt her tongue.

“I do not wish for you to die,” I whispered.

“Me either,” she whispered back. “I like being your mistress.”

“I don’t think I like all this talk of dying,” Tansy said. “The kissing, I can stand.”

“I am afraid,” I said simply.

“I know,” she answered. “So am I. But you’re not alone. I go wherever you go, straight to hell if need be. It’s the same for Beth. And Lyra. And Jory.”

“They have their sister back.”

“They have _a_ sister back. They have three more sisters here. They won’t forget us.”

“They should. None of us are actually their sisters.”

“Will you stop with the voice of doom? Accept that you’re worthy of the love of four – count them, four – good women. Plus Aly. Plus Maege. Probably Dacey too, once she knows you. And Gilly and Gendry and Davos and all the rest.”

“I am not.”

“We’re here, aren’t we? Do I need to slap you again?”

“You slapped her?” Beth asked. “What would you have done if she’d slapped you back?”

“Die.”

“I would never harm you.”

“I know that. You need to remember what you mean to us. Lyra can actually read your thoughts. She’ll never abandon you.”

“So what should we do?” Beth asked. “They have no idea where to find us.”

“We could return to where we killed Walder,” I offered, “and retrieve their boat, if it is still there.”

“We left witnesses in that tavern,” Tansy said. “Plus six bodies on the riverbank. Plus two dead kings and a mercenary floating down the river. We probably shouldn’t backtrack.”

“Are there any obvious points we would have to pass through?” I asked. “Where our sisters would seek us?”

“The Ruby Ford,” Tansy said immediately. “Where the Kingsroad crosses the river. The raven should be with them; he’ll find us if we stay in one place long enough.”

“The tavern where I killed the Waif is nearby?” I asked, and then recalled how angry Tansy had been with me that day. She made no mention of it, but I had no desire to return there.

“One and the same,” she said. “And probably not the best place to await our sisters.”

* * *

As the sun began to drop toward the horizon, we came across a small farm cottage. The family still lived there despite their terror. They had been robbed more than once over the past days, but the farmer allowed us a place to sleep in the attached stable and a meal of potato soup in exchange for a golden dragon coin.

We took our soup to the stable – our very presence made the farm couple and their two children nervous – and then Beth and Tansy nestled into a pile of clean hay while I sat with my back to one of the posts holding up the roof to stand watch. I amused myself by spying on the thoughts of the nearby family, and they had just entered sleep when I detected several approaching minds. Three men on foot sought to rob the cottage and rape any women within. One went to the front of the cottage, one to the back, and one to the stables.

I quietly rose, keeping my back to the post and remaining otherwise very still, and the would-be robber came almost directly to me, not noticing me until my hand shot out and grasped him by the throat. I crushed his wind pipe, and then exerted enough force to break his neck – it is much more difficult to do this in reality than it is in dramatic videos I had seen; I had been filled with rage-fueled adrenaline when I killed Daenerys’ herald this way. The human neck, whether of Barsoom or this planet, is extremely tough.

Letting the body drop, I walked to the nearby back of the cottage, where the second man stood next to the small door, waiting for his friend to enter from the front. He saw me coming before I reached him, but in the darkness assumed me to be his friend from the stables.

“You’re supposed to be snagging the horses,” he whispered.

“I decided to do this instead,” I said as I placed my hand over his mouth and stabbed him in the abdomen with my dagger. He did not die immediately, so I shoved the dagger under his chin and into his brain, killing him lest he alert the man at the front of the house.

The thoughts of the final man showed him gathering his courage to kick in the front door; the family remained sound asleep. I cleaned my dagger, then drew my sword. When he finally kicked in the front door I did the same with the back door, took three quick steps to meet him and sliced off his head.

The man and woman both screamed. “I am sorry for your door,” I said, and exited the cottage. A few moments later the farmer approached the stable, shakily carrying a lantern. After hefting the body of the man I had killed near the stables and flinging into a small stand of trees, I had returned to my place where I sat cleaning my weapons with the dead robber’s tunic. My sisters remained asleep.

“You . . . you killed them.”

“I did.”

“They would have killed us.”

“That was their intention.”

“What are you?” His voice shook, as did his hands tightly grasping the lantern’s handle.

“I am Azor Ahai, Daughter of the Red Star, who slew the Night’s King. You should leave this place.”

He believed me insane.

“We owe you our lives,” he said. “What can we do for you?”

Our silk shirts had rapidly started to fall apart; the Lannister apparently had had no eye for quality menswear.

“A tunic for myself and my sister,” I said. Tansy’s Mormont black tunic had dried sufficiently to be worn again. “Who has lordship over this region?”

“Castle Darry,” he said. “It has a new lord, a man they call the Strong Boar.”

“Lyle Crakehall?”

“Aye, that’s his name.”

The man offered us his bed, but we remained in the stable. In the morning, his wife prepared a large meal including ham and potatoes, and gave Beth and me sheepskin tunics which we found comfortable. The farm couple remained undecided about staying in the cottage; I decided it was not our place to argue with them and neither Beth nor Tansy objected. As we rode away, I told my sisters what I had learned from the farmer about the Mighty Pig and his castle.

“Can we trust him?” Beth asked. “You fought him, and shamed him.”

“We need food and rest,” I said. “At least I do. And I do not know where else to go.”

“We could go to the Ruby Ford,” Tansy said. “And try to make contact with John Carter.”

“How do we do that?” Beth asked. “You know, without being swarmed by hundreds of Dothraki, then raped, killed and raped again.”

“We stay away from the Dothraki,” Tansy said. “They’re said to prefer open country. There are heavy forests to the south of here, where the Brotherhood had its camp. We make our way through them, and seek out the sellsword companies serving John Carter. Then we send a message by way of the sellswords.”

“Saying what?”

“That the woman he seeks will meet him, alone,” I said. “We phrase it as a question of honor.”

“I don’t like this plan,” Beth said. “It promises to end in death. And in the adventure stories it’s always the spunky sidekick who ends up with the arrow sticking out of her neck.”

She stuck a finger in her neck and crossed her eyes.

“As I recall,” Tansy added. “They’re not too forgiving of the whore with a heart of gold either.”

I would not have my sisters harmed, not for what could likely be what Tansy had called a fool’s errand.

“In the adventure stories of my world, the heroine always has a ready plan. I have nothing. Do either of you have a better plan?”

“Send him a raven,” Beth said. “Offer to meet right across the Ruby Ford. If he doesn’t come alone, we run like all seven hells were chasing us.”

Tansy nodded.

“I like that idea much better than mine. I’ve grown fond of not getting killed.”

“Where can we find a raven?” I asked. “I would not risk your raven, even after he finds us.”

“At a castle,” Tansy said. “One still inhabited by its owners.”

“Like Castle Darry,” I said. “The castle of a lord who has helped us before.”

And so we set off to find the Mighty Pig. Most people we saw ran away at our approach, but we managed to extract contradictory directions from a man pushing a small farm cart without the help of a horse and a priest of their religion, who also told us we would never reach the castle as we were bound for hell. I could not say that he was wrong, so I did not argue the point.

Not far past the inn, the cart track joined the Kingsroad. We passed people heading northward, carrying what possessions they managed to load on carts, mules and their own backs. They fled Dothraki raiders, and warned us to turn back while we still could. We pressed on instead.

While the Kingsroad in this area had inns along the route, none of those we passed still operated. Their owners and staff had already fled ahead of the Dothraki advance. Some were empty, others crowded with desperate people; there seemed to be no pattern. We slept in the forests and, one night, in the cellar of a burned-out farmhouse. Each morning we went through our exercises and I sparred with Beth Cassel; you can never get too much sword practice. I marveled at her growing speed and skill with her new sword, and realized that she was probably already a better swordswoman than I had been before I acquired my enhanced speed and strength.

As we rode along the narrow road onto which the priest had directed us, I detected the thoughts of a lone hunter who had hidden himself among the trees of a small forest. I could not spot him with my eyes, so I called to him loudly.

“We will not harm you,” I said. “Come and speak with us.”

A small tree moved, and a man carrying a bow walked out from behind it. He had an arrow nocked, but relaxed the bow and replaced the arrow in its quiver.

“You’re a woman,” he said. “You’re all women.”

He felt shame for having feared us.

“We seek Castle Darry,” I said. “And its lord the Mighty Pig.”

“The Strong Boar,” Tansy quickly corrected me. “Ser Lyle Crakehall.”

“That would be my very own lord,” the hunter said. “I serve Castle Darry as huntsman and tracker.”

“If you take us to him,” Tansy said, taking over the conversation, “he will be pleased. We are friends of his.”

He slung his bow over his shoulder and looked at me closely.

“Beautiful woman with a sword,” he said. “Tall, copper skin, odd speech. You’d be the princess he fought in single combat?”

“Yes,” I said, unsure whether I should bother to lie given the description.

“Says you’re the finest sword in Westeros,” the hunter said. “He’ll be glad to see you. Watch out for the lady of the castle, she’ll be less glad to see any of you three, ’specially once you’re cleaned up.”

He turned and started up the track, waving his hand for us to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next episode, Dejah Thoris encounters a woman with a dragon tattoo.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris defends some piglets.

Chapter Fourteen

Castle Darry proved to be rather small and severely battered; its wooden gates included large segments of fresh, raw wood, showing that they had been repaired very recently. At some point the walls had been breached. They were not yet fully restored, though work had been done to rebuild the massive gap. We dismounted and waited by the front gate while the hunter went to summon his lord. A single guard stood by, saying nothing but trying to pretend he was not staring at our breasts while he leaned on a spear.

The Mighty Pig soon appeared.

“Princess!” he bellowed, his voice echoing inside the castle walls. “I had never thought to see you again!”

He took my hand and kissed it, which earned me a glare from the woman standing beside him.

“This is my wife, Lady Amerei.”

Amerei Crakehall was not pretty; she had an oddly-shaped receding chin and I found it difficult to look at her without staring at it. She was as tall as I and did have features thought attractive on both Barsoom and Jasoom: very large breasts, which she happily displayed in a low-cut lace-trimmed gown, a narrow waist and long legs. People of this world seem to hold fleshier women in higher esteem, something Tansy had confirmed for me some time before, but the Mighty Pig found his wife very desirable. He feared that other men did as well, and that she reciprocated.

A quick scan of her thoughts confirmed that she did. She disliked me and my sisters immediately, comparing our beauty to her own and finding herself wanting. She saw any one of us as a threat to her position, and that brought up mild feelings of guilt. The Mighty Pig had been good to her, and she had betrayed him with other men. But she did not feel guilty enough to stop.

“And these are my piglets.”

Two small children peeked around their mother’s skirts. I dropped to my knees and greeted them. They giggled and hid behind their mother. I had learned to like the hatchlings of Bear Island, but small children still struck me as very odd – on Barsoom, we do not hatch from our eggs until we are more advanced than these children.

I stood up. “They are lovely, Lady Amerei.” I had learned that courtesy from Jeyne. It did not make as much of an impression as I had hoped.

“You know my sister, Tansy.” Lord Crakehall bowed. “And this is my newest sister, Beth Cassel, formerly of Castle Winterfell.”

“Cassel. Jory Cassel’s daughter?”

“Cousin, but I always thought of him as my brother.”

“I knew him slightly, from the tournament circuit. He seemed a good man and a great fighter. My condolences on your loss.”

“Your Lannister lords murdered him.”

“I know. But I am not a Lannister. Be welcome here, Lady Beth. I would have your friendship.”

“Forgive my rudeness,” she said. “I would have yours as well.”

“Come, see my castle. I am a lord now.”

He took great pride in his little castle; a great deal of damage had obviously already been repaired.

“Lady Beth is also your sister?” Crakehall asked as we walked toward the central building, which he named Plowman’s Keep. I had thought a plowman to be a farm laborer and could not understand why a castle would bear such a name.

“Maege Mormont adopted us both,” I explained. “Beth Cassel is her niece. I have known Beth for some time and she is dear to me.”

“I understand,” he said. “Shedding blood together forms bonds you can’t explain to those who’ve never been there. I have brothers born of another mother as well.”

He walked silently for a moment, remembering such brothers, now among the dead.

“What befell you on the road?” he asked.

“We were headed to the south,” I said, “on an errand for the Lady of Bear Island, Maege Mormont.”

He accepted this vague description, as their etiquette allowed one to obfuscate the doings of noble houses.

“Near the Twins, we encountered a large party of Frey soldiers. House Mormont and House Frey are in blood feud, as you are no doubt aware.”

“I am,” he said. “As Lady Beth said, I served the lord who ordered the Red Wedding, and though I had no role I still bear the shame of even that distant association.”

“We fought,” I said. “But they were many, and we were few. Tansy found a damaged boat and we escaped down the river, but the boat eventually sank. We took the horses and these tunics from men who wished to . . .”

“I understand,” he said, mistakenly believing his own words. “You must be tired from your journey. I’ll have the servants draw baths for all three of you.”

He did not present it as a question; we were indeed filthy and exuded unpleasant smells.

“Afterwards, we’ll have dinner and you can tell me of your adventures.”

“I am afraid that we lost most of our belongings,” I said, “and have no suitable clothing.”

“What is suitable for a princess of your land?”

“A simple dress, like your servants wear. All work on Bear Island, even the daughters of Lady Mormont.”

“That’s easily supplied,” he said, inwardly relieved that he would not have to ask his wife to lend gowns to us. “If you’d follow Giselle here, she’ll see to your needs.” 

* * *

The Mighty Pig’s maids provided three separate baths of hot water; it felt wonderful to remove layers of grime. I found leaves, small sticks and a bird’s feather stuck in my hair. The maids brought us simple brown dresses as I had requested and after drying ourselves we put them on. The maids took away our ruined clothing, now only suitable for use as rags.

“This was a wise choice,” Tansy said, testing the fit of her dress. “Minimize the threat to Lady Crakehall.”

“I gave it no thought,” I said. “I only asked for what we wear at Mormont Keep.”

“Put this on underneath,” she said, tossing me a grayish-white shift. “Lady Amerei’s need to be the only breasts on display tonight.”

A maid soon summoned us, and we followed her to the castle’s rather small dining hall. The table had been laid with what I understood to be very fine plates and tableware. It distressed Lady Amerei to see that my sisters and I remained beautiful despite our humble clothing. 

Tansy had warned me to restrain my hunger at the formal table, but I found the unusual food very good and I ate a great deal. There were pies with meat and birds inside them, vegetable dishes with spicy sauces, and a huge fish baked with herbs and some kind of fruit glaze.

“We have plenty of food,” the Mighty Pig said, smiling. “It’s men that concern me. My father gave me two of his household knights and a half-dozen men-at-arms. I’ve recruited a few more. But even a peasant militia is hard to raise, so many have been killed or run off the land. And I lack sufficient weapons for them as well.”

“You are threatened?”

“Besides the Dothraki hordes and John Carter’s sellswords? King Jaime granted me this castle and title, and arranged our marriage. King Walder will eventually demand that I bend the knee, but I don’t know that I could trust him to honor that. I assume King Jaime is dead.”

“He is.”

“Burned in the Red Keep by dragonfire. We heard.”

“No, that was someone named Marbrand he sent to take his place. Beth Cassel killed the real Lannister, at an inn north of here.”

“That would be Ser Addam Marbrand, a good man and perhaps his only real friend.” He addressed Beth. “I take it you had good reason, my lady?”

“He murdered Jory, but in the inn he tried to stab Dejah in the back.”

“That’s the Jaime Lannister I knew. He did wonderful things for me that I can’t deny. I had long adored Lady Amerei but marrying her seemed out of my grasp. He figured that out and made it happen, raising me to a lord and granting me this castle. He was squire to my grandfather, and a Lannister pays his debts.

“But he did a great deal of evil, and I can’t deny that, either.”

He patted his wife’s hand, and gave her a fond look. She did return his love, but found it difficult to balance those feelings with her enormous sexual appetite.

“And now rumor comes that King Walder is dead as well,” Lady Amerei added. ““We don’t even know who his heir might be. We heard that few survived.”

“King Walder is dead?” I asked. “Of what was he the king?”

“The Riverlands,” Lyle Crakehall said. “And thereby our overlord, though I never actually swore to him. You would have passed the Twins on your way South.”

“We did,” Tansy said, “but we didn’t enter. We only encountered Freys well to the south of the Twins, but saw none when we passed by the castles.”

“Perhaps someone took advantage of that lax security and forced their way in. But all we have is third-hand word of his death. I don’t even know what he supposedly died from.”

I turned to look at the Mighty Pig’s wife.

“I am sorry for your loss, Lady Amerei.”

“Oh no, there’s no need for courtesies,” she said. “He treated me horridly. He ordered his soldiers to kick me in the . . . in the . . . _the ass_! His own granddaughter!”

I noticed that Beth had been very quiet. Though I had promised to respect her privacy, her changed attitude worried me and I looked into her mind. Her thoughts indicated unease, and shame that she had been – in her own view, though certainly not in mine – a disappointment in the fight at the Twins. In her mind she kept looking down at her chest to see the hilt of the Frey soldier’s dagger embedded between her breasts.

While I tried to think of how to draw her out of her spiral of dark thoughts, one of the Crakehall servants brought a man into the hall, the hunter who had led us to Castle Darry. He had urgent news for his lord.

The Mighty Pig bade him to speak immediately; if his news were urgent, it should not wait. He told of a group of twelve raiders who had crossed the river and appeared to be on their way to Castle Darry through the forest to the south.

“What do you wish to do, milord?”

“I wish to attack the raiders in the forest, before they get here. But I don’t have the manpower to risk it.”

He looked at me. I knew what he wanted.

“My sister and I will take care of them. You are the only man in the South I trust to protect Tansy while we are gone.”

“No harm will come to your sister, on my honor.”

His wife considered begging him to stop us, as she thought we were likely to be killed. Then she thought better of it and said nothing, believing that we were likely to be killed. Then she felt ashamed of that and made to speak, but I had already begun planning for the expedition.

“We will need some charcoal and ash to darken our skin in gray and black stripes. And black leggings, like those we wore when we arrived.”

“That should be easy enough. Do you want to take any of my men?”

“I trust Beth Cassel with my life. She is all the assistance I need, and your hunter to show us the way. We do not know your men and I would not want to harm anyone by accident.”

“My lord,” his wife finally broke in. “This seems foolish. Two women against a band of hardened sellswords?”

“My dear,” he took her hand. “Do you recall how I have said that I have only lost a combat once?”

She nodded.

“The princess here is the once.”

“Your husband was an honorable foe. I am happy for the chance to protect you and your piglets. Beth and I will be fine, but thank you for worrying about us.”

I had thought to reassure her, but she did not like my referring to her children as “piglets,” even though their father had done so. In the kitchens we dressed in black leggings and with Tansy’s help colored one another with black and gray stripes of ash and charcoal across our backs, chests and faces. Then we followed the hunter into the night. 

* * *

The hunter walked some distance ahead of us, out of earshot.

“Amerei is a Frey,” Beth whispered. “Are you going to do for her, or should I?”

I had not fully considered this situation. Lyle Crakehall had been nothing but generous to us, yet Maege had been clear that she wished every Frey to die, and I had agreed.

“Lyle Crakehall loves her,” I said, which was not an answer.

“And Lyra loved Dacey.”

“Dacey still lives.”

“You don’t want to kill her.”

I had ordered the deaths of hundreds of unarmed Freys in their castle; Lyra Mormont might have overseen the slaughter, but I held command responsibility. I had killed Genna Lannister in cold blood. And now I hesitated to murder one more, simply because a man who once helped me loved her? Surely many of those I’d killed had been loved as well.

“It is harder when it becomes personal.”

“She’s a spoiled bitch,” Beth said. “If you need me to do it, just tell me.”

“I will think on it,” I said. “But I do not believe she should die. Do nothing without my order.”

“Always.”

We fell silent as we entered the forest, following the hunter. Over the days since our moonless assault on the Twins the planet’s satellite had steadily gained in apparent size, and now cast a pale light between the trees.

The hunter finally held up his hand and pointed forward. I could detect the thoughts of the mercenaries ahead. He pointed to himself. I shook my head, pointed to the hunter, and pointed straight down. He nodded agreement. He would stay in place. I motioned to Beth to follow me. We walked quietly uphill, where a sentry awaited.

“Pentos,” he challenged. I took the response from his mind.

“Volantis.”

He thought my accent odd, unsure who I might be, but I had the right password.

“Advance.”

We advanced.

“The Dragon of Lys wants us all together, for final instructions. She’s already angry and you’ll find out why they call her the Dragon if we don’t get to the clearing right now. It’s not just the tattoo.”

Lys was one of the Free Cities of the Eastern Continent; the so-called Dragon was apparently a well-known female mercenary fighter from Lys and in charge of this raiding party. We followed the sentry.

I could feel the thoughts of the gathered mercenaries, so we did not need the sentry to guide us to them. I moved close behind him and pushed him against a tree as though I had fallen against him.

“What are you doing, you clumsy bitch?”

He should not have called me “bitch.” I put my right hand on the back of his head and smashed it against the tree several times. I left his corpse where he fell and pulled Beth close, whispering what I had learned. This so-called Dragon had drawn volunteers from several mercenary groups and did not even know the names of her fighters. She had given them little instruction. It was a poorly-organized operation, ripe for infiltration. We would simply join them and, at the right moment, kill them. We walked on to where the mercenaries had gathered.

The Dragon was a rather small woman, a good deal shorter than Beth or I. By moonlight she had black hair and very pale skin, and a number of tattoos, including a large dragon wrapped around one thigh. Her face was round, and her hooked nose had been broken at least once. She wore very little: dark boots, a short loin-covering skirt and a small triangle of brightly-polished silver ringed armor over the center of each cone-shaped breast, leaving them mostly bare, with nipples colored with a dark powder visible through the mesh. Narrow silver chains held the triangles in place, with nothing between the rings and her skin – they looked most uncomfortable. What practical protection this could offer in battle I did not understand.

The other fighters had dropped to one knee in a semi-circle in front of her; we took our places in the center and knelt as well, with Beth on my right. Very few women fight in Westeros, but apparently it is more common on the Eastern Continent and several of these mercenaries were female. There were ten men and women in all in addition to their leader, four on Beth’s side and six on mine. No one else was colored for nighttime camouflage; we stood out from the group but so far no one had noticed. The Dragon had little clue regarding operational security; she should have spotted us immediately.

“Everyone get some rest while you can. At dawn we’re going over the walls. We want to kill all the guards. I’ll give you those assignments when we get there. Then it’s into the keep and kill everyone there: the lord, his lady, children, servants. We strike hard, we kill them, we set the place on fire and we get back to the boat. No one gets out of that castle alive. Understood?”

The man next to Beth leaned over and placed his hand on her thigh; she leaned into him and put her right hand on the inside of his thigh, opposite his sheathed dagger. His thoughts showed him becoming aroused and distracted. I felt a flash of jealousy and a desire to kill him myself.

The mercenary immediately to my left stared intently at the Dragon, eager for battle. He leaned on an unsheathed sword in his right hand. His thoughts showed a desire for sex with his commander; he thought of his hands roughly grabbing her breasts and he paid little attention to her orders. None of these fighters had much concern for discipline.

The Dragon was counting her fighters. Her orders, I saw in her mind, firmly instructed her to scout Castle Darry, but not to attack. This was her first independent command, and she planned to exceed those orders to win renown and promotion.

“Twelve of us got on that boat. There are thirteen here. What in the deepest hell is going on?”

She was alarmed.

“Someone doesn’t belong here.”

The fighter next to me turned to look into my red eyes. I snatched his sword and plunged it into his chest.

As soon as I moved, Beth pulled out her neighbor’s dagger and stabbed her would-be lover under his chin, jamming the blade into his brain. As he died she drew her sword and cut down the man beyond him. I proceeded to do the same, killing two more of the mercenaries before they realized that enemies were in their midst.

As the next fighter drew his sword, I struck downward on his wrist. Hand and sword fell to the forest floor and he dropped to his knees, holding his injured arm. The next two fighters, both fairly large men, rushed me side-by-side, swords high. I quickly stepped forward into their charge, surprising them, and sliced both of them across the lower abdomen with a single two-handed stroke. Neither wore steel armor, only hard leather, and the blade bit deep. They dropped their swords and fell, one to his knees and the other onto his back.

The last warrior froze as she awkwardly lifted her sword. She was taller than I, but slender and flat-chested with long stringy brown hair and a face that looked much like that of a horse. She had only wanted to come on this mission for the loot and had no intention of fighting or working. Her thoughts indicated that she had hoped to buy goats with her unearned share, which struck me as very strange. She dropped her sword and made to flee into the forest, but I quickly caught her and stabbed her between her shoulders, running her through. She threw her hands into the air and made a grunting sound as she died; there would be no goats for her. I let her slide off my sword onto the ground and turned to join my secret mistress.

Only the Dragon of Lys still stood, but Beth had the upper hand. The Dragon had skill with her blade, though not as much as she believed, and she knew herself outmatched. Beth had forced her back and onto the defensive; the woman’s fear of impending death overrode all other thoughts. The first rule of combat is that one cannot be ruled by fear; to fear death is to meet death.

Beth’s thoughts showed full concentration, focusing on her moves and pressing her advantage. She knew she had the advantage but also knew how easily luck can turn; my mistress beat down the Dragon’s guard and waited for the inevitable opportunity to disarm her, and then run her through.

Only fools and the dead believe in a “fair fight.” I stalked across the clearing to help Beth finish her opponent. The Dragon stepped backwards and called out “I yield” rather than face us both, dropping her own blade.

Beth placed the tip of her sword between the Dragon’s oddly armored breasts. I noticed a soft roll of flesh where the Dragon’s abdomen met her skirt. I kicked the Dragon’s sword away and picked up a cloak from the ground where someone had dropped it.

“What do we do with her?” Beth asked as I cleaned my sword.

“I could join you,” the pale woman said. “This isn’t my fault. None of it’s my fault. I have real skills that you could use.”

“Should I kill her?”

“That would be a waste,” the Dragon said quickly. “A real waste.”

“Let us see if she will help us.” I answered, sheathing my sword.

I handed the cloak to Beth, who began to wipe down her own sword. The Dragon relaxed as the steel point left her chest.

“I should be fighting with you, not against you. This isn’t my fault.”

For all of her tough façade, the Dragon began to cry, shedding actual tears as she faced death. She had lowered her hand to her side and was steadily moving her fingers toward a blade hidden inside her skirt, but she knew it could not save her life. She tried to continue her slow retreat but had to stop when her back pressed against a large tree.

“You could use me. I would do whatever you asked. Anything. I know how to satisfy a woman. It’s not my fault.”

She raised her arms to link her fingers behind her neck, hoping to appear submissive. I stood next to her and ran two fingers of my right hand slowly and gently along the edge of her jaw. Even in her terror, she liked my touch. With my left hand I pulled the knife out of her skirt and tossed it out of her reach.

“You do not need this.”

“Are you going to kill me? Please don’t. It’s not my fault.”

I kept my fingers moving to the base of her jaw, and then down her neck. Her muscles had become very taut. She had a small, straight scar at the base of her throat.

“I will ask you questions, and you will show how you wish to serve me by answering truthfully. Can you do this for me?”

“I . . . I will. I want to serve you.”

“I know you do.”

She did not. She wished to kill me, and to kill my sister as well. Her thoughts revealed that she had murdered many people through treachery – stabbed in their sleep or during sex, poisoned, even drowned while bathing – but during battle had only killed those supposedly on her own side.

I leaned over her; I saw by the moonlight that her black hair had a purple tinge to it, and that the roots were actually gray. My fingers kept slowly tracing a path from her neck down her chest, then to her breast.

“You like the way I touch you.”

Her nipples were involuntarily responding to her terror, but she nodded.

“You came here alone.”

“No. There are more patrols in the woods. I could lead you to them.”

I tapped her armored breast with my first two fingers. I was not sure what people here considered a beautiful breast, as most women went about with them well-hidden and men imagined them impossibly huge and spherical, but had the Dragon been a woman of Barsoom I would have advised her to seek corrective surgery or at least to keep these better-covered. Cone-shaped, they pointed sharply outward to either side, leaving a wide gap between them.

“There are no other patrols. Do not lie to me. I will know.”

She sniffled, trying not to cry.

“Who ordered you to come here?”

“Our company commander had orders from John Carter.”

This was actually true.

“You have met John Carter?”

“I’ve seen him.”

This was also true, though only at a distance; she had very much wanted to have sex with my husband. He had not even looked at her.

“You exceeded your orders.”

“Yes. We were only supposed to scout the castle.”

She began to blame herself for falling into our trap, then resisted that thought.

“It’s not my fault. I couldn’t know you were here. My sentries should have spotted you.”

I moved my hand down her body, along her abdomen. Her flesh was very soft. I let it rest at the front of her hip and spoke softly into her ear.

“Your sentry led us directly to you. It is your fault. You made it easy for us.”

She turned to look me in the eye. She wanted to kiss me. She wanted to kill me. I took her chin gently in my hand.

“We cannot trust you. Even now you plan to kill us both at your first opportunity. You would betray anyone foolish enough to show you friendship. It is your fault.”

“I yielded! I yielded in good faith!”

Her voice broke. A cascade of tears and the thick fluid known as “snot” ran down her face.

“Let me join you. You won’t regret it.”

She imagined killing my sister and taking her place as my companion in battle and, she imagined, as my lover.

“You would serve me?”

“Yes. Faithfully. We would be as close as sisters.”

Until, she added silently, she found a way to kill me.

“That place is already taken.”

I put my left hand on the Dragon’s throat and pushed her against the tree, tipping her face upward. She hoped I was about to kiss her, but I drew my dagger with my right hand and slid it into the Dragon’s heart up to its hilt. The pale woman sobbed and reached to grasp my hand on the dagger’s handle with both of hers, fruitlessly trying to pull the blade out of her chest before she lost feeling in her arms.

“It hurts,” she whispered; even standing over her I could not have heard without telepathy, “they all said it wouldn’t hurt.”

Her head sagged, and one last time she muttered “it’s not my fault.” I twisted the blade and pulled my dagger free. The Dragon of Lys slumped against the tree, remaining propped there as she finally died and voided her waste. I picked up the bloody cloak again and used it to clean the dagger.

“Dejah.”

“Sister?”

I had promised not to probe her mind unless we were in danger.

“Did you have to be cruel to her? To play with her?”

“She would have killed you. Killed us both.”

“I don’t doubt it. I can’t read minds and she reeked of treachery even to me. But I didn’t choose to follow her. I chose to follow you, to be your sister.”

I sighed. She was correct. I should not have treated the Dragon so; she was a living woman, not a toy.

“I disappointed you.”

“Well, yes.”

“I can be petty and cruel. I will try to be more worthy of my sisters.”

“Thank you.”

I appreciated that she did not try to argue against what I had said. I thought about it as the Crakehall scout entered the clearing, having caught and killed the fleeing one-armed man. He looked over the carnage.

“Now that was a hunt, milady.”

He killed the two remaining men that I had wounded, using a long, slender blade. We checked the bodies for money; all but the horse-faced woman had a great deal of it on them. Like Bronn, these sellswords did not trust their earnings with their comrades back at their camp.

Beth nudged the Dragon’s body with her boot to roll it onto the ground, revealing a large packet on the dead woman’s lower back held in place with a belt. It was filled with gold coins; apparently she had been vastly overpaid for her services. Beth cut it free with a knife she pulled from a sheath on the Dragon’s boot, laying bare a rather hideous winged tattoo across the dead woman’s pale lower back. It appeared to have been inked by someone who was very drunk, though the crease caused by the roll of fat around her lower abdomen made it difficult to make out all of the supposed artwork. She also had an odd rippled pattern on the back of her thighs and buttocks that resembled the food known as “cottage cheese.”

“What happened to her upper legs?” I asked Beth. “Is she diseased?”

“It’s a form of fat,” she explained. “You see it in older women.”

“It is almost as repulsive as her tattoo.”

“Not everyone can be a beautiful princess.”

We took the Dragon’s sword as well as those of the men and women she had led to their deaths, giving most of them to the scout to carry. I had not inspected the armory at the castle, but suspected that it did not harbor many weapons. These blades might prove useful.

We allowed the scout keep the money he’d taken from the one-armed man, far more than he had ever made in a full year, and to take the Dragon’s breast covering in case it really was silver. Beth stopped him when he tried to fondle the corpse’s breasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next chapter, Dejah is interrupted before her bath.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris is unexpectedly kissed.

Chapter Fifteen

We reached the castle while it was still dark. The Mighty Pig, Tansy and Lady Amerei met us at the gate. Lady Amerei had engaged her husband in vigorous sex while we were gone, in hopes of leaving him too exhausted to seek pleasure with any of us, me in particular. She noted that Beth and I were bare-breasted under our layers of camouflage, and noted that her husband noted this as well. She compared our breasts to hers, souring her mood further, and she planned to make love to Crakehall again as soon as our reunion concluded.

“How did you fare?” Crakehall asked.

“Twelve landed,” the hunter said. “Twelve died. Never seen anything like it.”

We piled the mercenaries’ weapons inside the gate. The scout said nothing of the gold he had taken, nor did we.

“Who were they?” Crakehall asked again.

“Sellswords from Essos,” I replied. “A mixed lot from different companies. That allowed us to infiltrate them, and we started killing them before they realized we were not of their number. They were led by a woman known as the Dragon of Lys. Beth Cassel killed her in single combat.”

“I know her by reputation,” Crakehall said. “A fearsome fighter, she’s said to be. That was no small feat.”

He had never heard of her. Beth smiled and thanked him for the praise. I remained with him as Beth and Tansy walked across the courtyard to the castle keep, a hot bath and our bed. I was proud of my sister; she had regained at least some of her confidence.

“Why did you lie?”

Lady Amerei made to protest that her husband would never lie, but he raised his hand to stop her.

“I’ve led men into battle many times, princess. Never any women, but I suspect that in this thing, men and women are exactly the same. Sometimes you have to tell them what they need to hear, truth or not. I think of it as a higher truth.

“I saw it when we dined. She’d lost confidence somewhere.”

He spoke it as a question.

“A Frey had her beaten, his dagger ready to enter her heart. I killed him first, but it was a close thing.”

“Hopefully she’ll be better now. I trust my gut,” he rubbed his stomach; it was a good deal larger than when I had last seen him, “and it doesn’t like what lies ahead for you. You’re going to need her. I can feel it.”

“You are a good man, Lyle Crakehall.”

“No, but I wish to be. Go and sleep. When you’re rested, we’ll talk about what it is you need from me. And I’ll thank you many more times for tonight.”

Lady Amerei took him by the arm and led him away, pressing her breasts against him. I hoped he would still be able to think in the morning. She looked back at me, feeling guilty for her earlier thoughts.

“Thank you for protecting us, and my piglets.”

* * *

I dropped the cross-bar into place to secure the door to our borrowed chambers, and as soon as I turned around Beth pressed me against the door and kissed me. She opened her mouth and played her tongue over mine.

“Take me,” she said in a low voice as she broke away. “Fuck me now and fuck me hard.”

“We are still covered in ash and charcoal,” I said.

Tansy walked over to us slowly, reached past Beth and placed one finger on my nose. She ran it slowly down my face, neck and chest to rest on my left breast. She held it up to display a heavy black stain.

“She has a point,” she told Beth. “We wouldn’t be very good guests if we did this to Lord Crakehall’s bedclothes.”

Beth turned to answer her, and Tansy placed her hand on Beth’s chest and pressed her gently back against me.

“I didn’t say we wouldn’t fuck you,” she said before Beth could object. “Just not on Lord Crakehall’s clean sheets.”

Tansy pulled off her brown dress, and then the shift she wore beneath it. She took Beth’s face in both hands and kissed her. I put my left hand around Beth’s left breast, feeling Tansy’s right breast pressed against the back of my hand. I enjoyed the sensation very much. I wanted to receive orgasm almost as much as Beth did, and slipped into her thoughts as my right hand slipped into her leggings.

She received orgasm quickly, moaning and writhing. Tansy kept hold of her face and did not let her break away from her kiss. I felt Beth’s legs grow weak and slipped my hand from her breast to her waist to hold her upright just as I felt the hormones begin to pulse through my own body. I moaned and pressed my face against the charcoal-covered side of her neck.

The Mighty Pig’s servants had delivered three tubs of steaming water, and Beth staggered away to soak herself. I made to follow but Tansy pressed me back against the door.

“I’m not done with you,” she said, and kissed me as she had Beth. I kissed her back, fully engaging my tongue. I caressed her breast, now covered in a pattern of gray and black stains, and then reached my finger inside her as I had with Beth while I entered her thoughts. She loved me. She believed me beautiful. She received orgasm as though she had been struck by one of the waves of this planet’s oceans, and I shared the sensations, collapsing against the door and moaning loudly.

“Are you alright?” Beth asked from the tub. I could not answer, only moan again. I flung my head back as Tansy leaned forward to lick and suck at my breasts despite the layer of filth coating them.

“She’s fine,” Tansy said, her voice rasping. “She needs this.”

“Need any help?” Beth asked.

“I’ve got this,” Tansy said. “I’ve definitely got this.”

* * *

We spent several days as guests of the Mighty Pig, who remained deeply grateful for our destruction of the Dragon of Lys and her raiding party. Lady Amerei soon deduced that the three of us were lovers, and relaxed her attitude toward us slightly. The damaged tower in which the lord of the small castle had given us chambers had no other inhabitants, or even any other intact rooms. That allowed us to have sex every day without fear of discovery; I also slept a great deal. Beth usually joined me as I napped, and her nightmares lessened following our fight with the Dragon of Lys. Crakehall had been correct.

Every morning we exercised in the small castle courtyard, drawing a small number on onlookers who thought us very strange but tolerated our presence thanks to our extermination of the Dragon and her raiding party. I sparred with Beth Cassel, using practice swords we found racked near the castle’s practice yard. The Mighty Pig came to watch us.

“Would be a pleasure to join you,” he said as we finished one morning. “A severe test to try to match that speed.”

“You are always welcome to do so,” I said, remaining to speak with him as Beth returned to our chambers.

“I’m afraid those days are done,” he said with sadness, holding up his left hand. “The wrist never healed properly after our match. I’m as one-handed as Lannister now.”

“You can fight with one hand,” I said. “The Lannister did so.”

“I saw him try,” Crakehall said. “He was a sad, humiliated shadow of what he’d once been. I don’t want to be that.”

“You castle and people need you,” I countered. “Even one-handed.”

“You have the right of it, of course,” he allowed. “My foolish pride gets in the way.”

“You do not wish to appear weak in front of your wife.”

“Your insights are frightening, Princess.”

“You love her.”

“I do,” he said. “As a princess, you know that love is rare in arranged marriages.”

He waited for my nod before he went on.

“I visited here with Jaime Lannister during the wars. Amerei was lady of the castle, married to his cousin. I fell hard then, but I would not cross that line even though her husband had given her leave to . . . pursue other interests.”

“Gave her leave?”

“He was a religious fanatic, with no intention of consummating his arranged marriage. Amerei is a Frey, but her mother was a Darry. That made Ami the heiress, or close to it, after most of the Darry family died off. Her husband Lancel Lannister left Darry and his wife, and was blown to vapor along with the Sept of Baelor.”

“I have seen the crater.”

“Not long after I met you and Lady Tansy in King’s Landing, the new King Jaime granted me Castle Darry, the lordship and an arranged marriage with Lady Amerei. Crakehall is on the other side of Westeros from the Twins, but we’ve intermarried with the Freys for generations. Ami is actually my cousin as well as my wife; her grandmother was my grandfather’s sister. I’m not sure what degree of cousin that makes us, but she’s a Crakehall by blood as well as marriage.”

“She does not fight,” I said, returning to my point. “Few women of this land do.”

“And so you’re saying that I need to pick up a sword again to protect her.”

“Yes. Or teach her to do so.”

“That’s not done in these lands. Once I would have laughed, loudly, at the very idea. Since then I’ve seen you fight, and seen your sister spar. I’ve come to see how deadly this world can be for a woman alone. Too many good knights are in the ground while the bad ones still walk.”

“You will take up your sword again?”

“Well, no, you gave my sword to that squire who looks like King Robert. But I’ll find one, a lighter one, and start to work.”

* * *

Four days later we had a morning visitor: Tansy’s raven, with a note from Lyra. She and Jory had come south with our horses, and been forced away from the main roads by roaming bandits. Taking back roads and cart trails, they had reached the nearby Crossroads Inn, where I had killed the murderous Waif and fed her corpse to the pigs. Tansy found a writing instrument and wrote a reply on the margins of the note, as she could find no fresh animal skin. She attached it to her raven’s leg, and fed him some of the corn she had hopefully kept with her since our arrival at Darry.

“You see,” Beth said. “You’re not forgotten. They’ve been fighting their way to us all this time.”

“I wronged them,” I said. “I misjudged Lyra.”

“Dejah,” Beth said, very seriously. “Lyra loves you as much as you love her. And Jory absolutely adores you.”

She turned to Tansy.

“We ride for the Crossroads Inn?”

“We ride,” Tansy said. “Let’s tell Lord Crakehall and be on our way.”

The Mighty Pig lent us suitable riding clothes from his stockpile of soldiers’ leggings and tunics, and a third horse. We set out after a quick First Meal, and reached the inn by early afternoon.

As we approached the Crossroads Inn, I detected six familiar thought patterns rather than the two I expected: our sisters Lyra and Jory as well as Toregg and Ryk of the Free Folk and Melly the healer. And Dacey Mormont. All six awaited us in the common room, but Lyra detected my thoughts and ran outside to wrap her arms around me as I dismounted.

“I did not think you would come,” I said. “I grew despondent.”

“I will always come for you,” Lyra said, tightening her embrace. She kissed me.

“You have your sister back,” I said.

“One of them,” she said. “And now three more.”

She embraced Beth and Tansy, while Jory came flying out of the inn and threw herself on me. I had feared that I would not see my little sister again, and held her as tightly as I dared without crushing her with my enhanced strength.

Dacey Mormont stood in the doorway, looking very thin but still far healthier than when I had carried her out of Walder Frey’s dungeon. She had bathed, and dressed in a set of Mormont black like those I had lost. She looked much like Lyra, though she had several streaks of gray in her dark brown hair and remained painfully thin. I would have guessed her to be older than Maege, but I have difficulties judging the ages of these people. Despite the ravages of her experience, she remained quite beautiful.

“Sister,” she said, smiling at me. “I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

I stood at the foot of the small set of stairs leading into the inn, looking stupidly upward with nothing to say. She walked down them and embraced me.

“I owe you my life,” she whispered into my hair – downward, as she was noticeably taller than I. “You can’t be rid of me easily.”

“I hope we will be friends,” I whispered back.

“No need for hope,” she answered. “We will be.”

Inside, Toregg and Ryk raised a chicken leg and a flagon of ale, respectively, to greet us as we entered the common room where long ago I had killed the murderous Waif. Melly sat at the end of the large heavy wooden table, and nodded slightly to me. An innkeeper I had not seen before had taken over for Hot Pie and he brought us ale and roasted chickens. We joined the Free Men, with Jory practically clinging to my side as she wriggled between me and Dacey. Lyra pressed closely to my other side.

“You killed the river king?” Toregg asked me.

“We caught them by the side of the river,” I said. “I cut Walder Frey into two pieces. And his people?”

“Dead,” he said. “Put to the sword, then the bodies burned. The Glover lord would’ve tossed them in the river, but we brought him to our way of thinking.”

“You did not harm Lord Glover?”

“No,” Ryk said. “Toregg asked him if he’d ever seen a Walker. And that was the end of that talk.”

“You had no other trouble with the Manderlys or Glovers?”

“We had Dacey,” Toregg said, approving. “Fierce, she is. Glad to call her sister. You will be, too.”

Dacey and Tansy had leaned across the table, whispering introductions to one another. She looked up on hearing her name.

“We couldn’t find Busty Betsy,” she said. “She was the one bitch I wanted to kill myself.”

“Busty Betsy?” I understood “busty” to mean large-breasted, but did not understand how that fit with the conversation.

“Lady, I suppose Queen, Elsbeth. Walder’s latest wife, his tenth I think. Or maybe the ninth. Brown hair, big round high tits, pretty enough if you like them empty-headed. She watched Walder rape me.”

I now recalled Bronn the mercenary telling Beth about Busty Betsy.

“Beth killed her,” I said. “She said she did not wish to be queen any more, and Beth put her sword through her heart.”

“She had a dagger,” Beth said, defensively. “And she was a Frey, by marriage.”

“I’m glad it was one of us who killed that bitch,” Dacey said. “She would put on a sweet face and say all the right words, and then stand there looking on silently while they fucked me. She never lost that vapid smile no matter how loud my screams.”

I reached across Jory to grasp Dacey’s hand. She squeezed it back.

“I am very happy to see you,” I said to her. “But I had not expected to do so until we returned to Bear Island.”

Dacey smiled. Despite the brutality of her captors, she retained all of her visible teeth.

“It was all they talked about,” she said. “My sisters, the Guards, these two wild men. Princess this and princess that. I had to meet you for myself.”

“We have met.”

“I had to meet you when I was myself, not a rag doll carried in your arms.”

“I tried to send her North with Lord Glover,” Lyra said. “She would not be turned back.”

“Couldn’t talk sense into her,” Melly said. “So I had to come to keep her alive.”

“Will she stay alive?” I asked.

“Woman’s even less fit than she looks,” Melly said, clearly unhappy. “She needs food and rest.”

“I won’t be separated from my sisters,” Dacey said, smiling again. “See? I’m already learning.”

“What about your mother?” I asked. “And your other sisters?”

“We’ll see them soon enough,” she said. “It seemed worth the delay, so I could thank you in person and join you on the ride North.”

Beth and Tansy looked expectantly at me, and Lyra at them.

“What?” Lyra asked.

“I am not returning to the island,” I said. “John Carter is here. In Westeros.”

“You promised you wouldn’t leave me,” Lyra said. “You promised all of us.”

“I have to face him,” I said. “To turn him away from Bear Island. He has brought a vast army of Dothraki and sellswords and seeks to avenge the murder of Daenerys. I cannot ask any of you to risk your lives for me.”

“No,” Beth said, “you can’t. You can’t ask because it’s already decided. If you want to drive me away, you’re going to have to fight me and kill me. I’m not leaving you otherwise.”

“I could never harm you.”

“Then it’s decided. I’m coming with you.”

“I think we all are,” Dacey said. “I didn’t come all this way to head back alone.”

“What of Maege?” I asked. “And Alysane?”

“They need to know what’s happened,” Lyra said. “And where we’re going. We can send Toregg and Ryk back to Greywater Watch with word for our mother.”

The two Free Men nodded.

“Follow you, leave you, whatever you choose,” Ryk said. “Just let us know.”

“Don’t forget we have another adventure,” Toregg reminded. “Anything that worries my father, our father, is a serious matter.”

“Toregg told me about it,” Dacey said to me. “And I want to go with you to hunt for white walkers, too. I’ve been north of the Wall.”

“Very well,” I said. “After I meet John Carter.”

Melly slowly lowered her head into her hands, a gesture she had learned from me.

“I’ll write a letter for Maege,” Tansy said. “We could be gone for some time.”

I thought to object to Tansy’s clear determination to accompany me, but I knew she would refuse to leave me. And I did not want her to leave me.

“Give us words to repeat in case it’s lost,” Toregg said. “It was a hard road south, and it’ll be harder north. We’ll probably need to leave the road and move through the trees.”

“Dothraki?” Tansy asked him.

“Not yet,” he said. “Roving bands of Southron knights, warriors, some of them just angry men with farm tools.”

“Order’s totally broken down,” Lyra said. “People are fleeing, with the strong preying on the weak. Now we know why.”

This was my fault. As Beth Cassel had said, I slew Daenerys because she received orgasm from my husband, something he had never given me. And now all of Westeros paid the price of John Carter’s vengeance.

“We only have to make it to the swamps,” Toregg said. “The little swamp men know to watch for our return.”

“Does Maege know that you live?” Tansy asked Dacey.

“We sent ravens from the Twins,” Dacey said, “but we burned the place before any reply came.”

“Your death devastated her,” I said. “She will be thrilled to see you again.”

“I know,” Dacey said. “And it tears at me. But I know from Lyra and Jory how much the three of you mean to Mother. I owe it to her to stand with you. Here we stand, remember?”

“You are not jealous?”

“That it took three of you to replace one of me?” she laughed, a deep laugh like her mother’s. “I died, as far as anyone knew. Life goes on after you die, whether you want it to or not.”

“Were there more prisoners?” Beth asked. “In the Twins?”

“We only took the one castle,” Lyra said. “So we don’t know who might have been under the other. But we found Greatjon Umber and some other Northmen. None of our Mormont people.”

“You burned the castle?” I asked. “And the bridge?”

“Gendry blew down the bridge with the explosive powder,” Jory finally spoke. “The end nearest the castle fell into the water, and then the rest crumbled up to the tower in the center of the river. That tower and the bridge on the other side remained standing.”

“The castle went up in flames,” Dacey said. “We swept it for survivors, and found plenty of dry wood and lamp oil to set the blaze. The inner keep fell in and some of the towers, but the shell of the curtain wall is mostly still there.”

“All within died?”

“All the men,” Toregg said. “And all the women with weasel faces. We found the place where they kept the young ones.”

“And the children?” Beth prompted, her voice shaking slightly.

“Two dark-skinned women waited within, obviously not Freys. The darker one said she would die to protect the children, and so the Glover lord let her live. The other begged us to kill the children and the other woman but allow her to live. The Glover slew her himself with a dagger to the heart, even as she dropped to her knees and offered to please him. He showed a rage worthy of the Free Folk.”

I understood Toregg to mean that the woman had offered to apply her tongue to Galbart Glover’s sex organ, and that this had angered Lord Galbart.

“Aye,” Dacey added. “Galbart seems soft, but he takes offenses against honor as deep wounds. Her wishing to trade children’s lives for her own pushed him over the edge.”

“You didn’t kill the children,” Tansy asked, “did you?”

“Of course not,” Lyra said. “Lord Glover insisted on sending them North, with the last of the women to care for them. He said they would be fostered as war orphans, and none would reveal their origins. The world will believe we killed them all.”

“I always had a softness for Galbart Glover,” Dacey said. “He had the right of it, but in the moment I wished to line the walls with their hanged corpses. I’m glad he was there.”

“Our own losses?” I asked.

“Ten of the Mormont Guard, including Asha,” Lyra said. “Six more between the Glovers, Reeds and Manderlys.”

“She gave her life for mine,” Beth said. “And I wished her dead.”

“She fulfilled her oath,” I said. “That mattered very much to her.”

Silence fell on the table, broken by Longspear Ryk.

“The Iron Bitch!” he shouted, and drained his flagon of ale.

“Here we stand,” Lyra and Dacey said together; the rest of us struck our own flagons twice on the table and drained them.

“Were there rapes?” I asked, resuming the conversation.

“Not to my knowledge,” Lyra said.

“You trained the Guard well,” Dacey added. “They held discipline. Galbart and Ser Marlon threatened death for any of their men who did more than murder.”

She paused.

“They raped me. You all know that. Somehow I couldn’t condone the same being done to another woman even as I saw her killed. Even as I killed her myself.”

“And the loot?” I asked, eager to divert her thoughts.

“Wagons full of it,” Toregg said when Lyra or Dacey failed to answer. “Loaded on all our wagons, plus more we found in the castle.”

“Split four ways,” Lyra said. “Houses Mormont, Glover, Manderly and Reed.”

“Was hoping for five,” Toregg said.

“We couldn’t let on that we already have the Dreadfort’s gold,” she said. “You can have half of our share for your house. Our part was to be held at Deepwood Motte.”

“Half?” Toregg said. “Far too much for just two of us against six dozen of you. Keep the gold. Give us your share of weapons, tools and such. We lack good steel, and had we coin there’s nowhere to buy it.”

“Done,” she said. “I will write you a letter to this effect, to give to Lord Glover.”

* * *

We spoke for some time, and then asked the innkeeper for a room with a large bed. Toregg and Ryk insisted on sleeping in the stable with the horses, pointing out that the roving bands of marauders sought horses above even rape and plunder. We mounted a watch as well, and I took the first shift, sitting on the edge of the inn’s wide porch. Dacey joined me after a short while.

“They love you,” she said quietly. “Do you understand how extraordinary that is?”

“I do.”

“Which one is your lover, Beth or Tansy?”

“Both.”

“Now that, I did not expect.”

“Neither did I.”

“You haven’t done so with my sisters?”

“We are all your sisters.”

“Fair enough. My birth-sisters.”

“You need not question me,” I said, my voice somewhat harsher than I intended. “I would die before I allowed harm to come to any of my sisters. And I am very hard to kill.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to come across as hostile. It’s just all very strange.”

“As it is for me. They told you of my home?”

“That you’re not of this world,” she said, “and that you read thoughts?”

“Yes. And they told you of Beth and Tansy?”

“I’ve known Beth since she was a babe,” Dacey said. “I know that Tansy . . .”

“Was a whore,” my first sister, who had been quietly standing behind us, completed the thought. She sat on the opposite side of Dacey.

“We’re not here to take your place,” Tansy said. “Your family accepted us. I hope you shall as well.”

“I was always their protector,” Dacey said. “It’s hard not to play the she-bear.”

“My foster mother was kind to me,” Tansy said, “but she never loved me. My own mother sold me. I was young and beautiful and as soon as I flowered, she took a sack of gold dragons for my maidenhead. When I grew tits she sold me to a King’s Landing brothel. I always wished for a true mother who loved me. And then I met Maege. She’s been that mother. Please don’t take her from me.”

“I would never do that!” Dacey exclaimed, taking Tansy’s hand in both of hers. In the moonlight I could see her eyes fill with unshed tears. “Lyra told me. You brought Mother back to the world of the living. Just because I’m not dead any more, that doesn’t change what you and she have.

“I’ve been a right bitch to both of you. And that’s wrong of me.”

“You have not seemed like a bitch,” I said. “Only suspicious, as you should be.”

“I could lose Dejah,” Tansy said. “I can’t lose Maege as well.”

“You won’t,” Dacey said, angry with herself and biting off her words. “I was wrong. Now I’ll put it right. You’re my sister. You’ll not lose our mother’s love, and you’ll not lose Dejah.”

“You barely know me,” Tansy said.

“That’s true. But Lyra does. As does Jory.”

She turned to me.

“And as for you,” she began, then suddenly leaned forward and kissed me, “you were trying to seduce the wrong Mormont.”

Dacey stood and returned to our bed. Tansy slid over beside me.

“That was unexpected,” she said.

“It was,” I agreed. “I saw no warning in her thoughts.”

I took Tansy’s hand, and held it to keep her from returning to our bed until I felt Dacey’s thoughts slip into the rhythms of sleep.

“Dacey is not well,” I finally said, softly.

“Her mind is distressed?”

“Yes. She spent years in an underground cell, rarely seeing the sun’s light, starving, being raped repeatedly.”

“She relives them, like Beth?”

“No,” I said. “It is not that. Not completely. She has little control over her emotions. They come on her suddenly and without warning. She is aware of this, but cannot always control it.”

“Is she dangerous?”

“I do not think so,” I said. “She does wish to adjust to our presence and be a sister to both of us, and to Beth. She had wished for Beth to be raised as her sister long ago, and that makes her accepting of us all. But at unexpected moments she becomes angry, or frightened, or most often suspicious without reason.”

“She wants you?”

“Sexually? I do not know. She kissed me to disorient me. That was also a sudden impulse.”

“Was it good?”

“She lacks your skill or Beth’s passion.”

“I have passion, too.”

“Yes, you do.”

* * *

In the morning, Tansy, Beth and I put on the fresh sets of Mormont black leggings and tunics that our sisters had brought for us. We all performed the ritual exercises, which Lyra had taught to Dacey. After First Meal we saw off Toregg and Ryk on their way north, and I sparred with Beth and Lyra. Dacey watched us, but had not yet regained the strength to participate.

“You’ll teach me as you have Lyra?” she asked. “Please?”

“Of course,” I said. “You are my sister.”

“That I am.”

“You have fought with a sword, or with a mace like Maege?”

“Both,” she said. “More often with the mace, but I’m comfortable with a blade.”

“You are the eldest, yet Lyra wields the sword Longclaw.”

“I’ve heard that was your doing,” she said. “It’s hers, gifted from your hands. I have no wish to interfere.”

Her thoughts did not agree; she envied Lyra the sword, and resented that I had been the one to make the gift. She wondered if Lyra had paid for the sword with sex. Then she despised herself for having such negative thoughts about both Lyra and I.

I gestured to her, and we walked across the yard to where Tansy had tethered our horses. I called to our sisters to join us.

“The eldest daughter of House Mormont should wield a proper blade,” I said, removing Beth’s former sword, once known as Lady Forlorn, from where it was packed on the back of my horse, which had once belonged to the mercenary Bronn. “Beth Cassel carried this sword of Valyrian steel, but it is too long for her. With your height it should suit very well.”

“Surely you should carry this yourself,” Dacey said. “Skill before age. I know of no other house that holds two Valyrian steel swords.”

“Four,” Beth said, drawing her blade halfway out of its scabbard. I did so with mine as well.

“Thank you,” Dacey said, drawing me into her arms. “You gave me my life, and now a Valyrian blade. I should have welcomed you from the first moment.”

“You did.”

“You can read thoughts,” she said. “So you know that I didn’t.”

“You overstate,” I said. “I am happy to be your sister.”

“And I yours. You know I can’t really use this yet. As light as it is, I can barely lift it.”

“You will grow stronger,” I said. “And I will teach you.”

“I spent years with our master-at-arms,” Dacey said. “Were they wasted?”

“No,” I said. “That is a good foundation. You know how to handle a blade. We will work on how to handle your opponent.”

“Pattern recognition. Lyra told me.”

“Exactly.”

“Much easier when you read others’ thoughts.”

“Actually it is more difficult,” I said. “If you rely on telepathy, the reading of thoughts, you will be a step behind at best. I will show you how to read an enemy’s body. That is more revealing than their thoughts.” 

* * *

We set out for Castle Darry, with Beth and Jory in the lead, followed by Melly riding alone and then Dacey and Tansy, our two spare horses next and finally Lyra and I guarding the rear. I knew that Lyra had arranged the order so that we could speak privately.

We spoke quietly of trivia, but finally she summoned the courage to speak her worries aloud, knowing that I had already read them in her mind.

“Is Dacey mad?”

“She is not well,” I said. “But I believe she can recover.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“What have you seen?”

“She’s angry, then crying for forgiveness, then accusing everyone around her, then she loves us all, then she’s back to angry again. I feel like she’s demanding I choose between you and her. You’re both my sisters. I shouldn’t have to choose.”

“You will not have to.”

“She accused me of laying with you.”

“She accused me as well. I refused to answer. Even sisters are allowed private moments.”

“I refused to answer as well,” Lyra said. “I didn’t like being accused, but I wasn’t going to be shamed, not for anything having to do with you.”

“I have seen these emotional swings in her thoughts,” I said. “It is not unusual for someone who has suffered a great shock.”

“I love her,” Lyra said. “As much as I love you.”

“I know.”

She finally smiled.

“I’m the one who says that.”

I nodded to Dacey and Tansy ahead of us.

“She is telling Tansy some of the horrors,” I said. “Saying them aloud seems to be helping. Tansy is wise.”

“Do you think she can heal her mind?”

“I do not know,” I said. “Ours is also a war-torn land, and many suffer the psychic scars, though few as terribly as Dacey. We have a class of experts, strong telepaths trained in the science of human emotions, who help them recover. It can be a long and difficult process even so.

“Dacey is very strong. And I will do everything I can to help her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next episode, Dejah must mediate when Dacey Mormont meets an old acquaintance.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris confesses what she and Beth Cassel have done.

Chapter Sixteen

The lone guard admitted us to Castle Darry with a smile; my sister Beth and I had gained a great deal of credit with the castle’s people after our slaughter of the Dragon and her mercenaries. He rushed to tell the lord of the castle while we put away our horses.

“Tend to your own mount,” I heard his booming voice as I brushed the horse I had ridden. “I learned the same as a squire.”

“Knights do not do so?”

“Not usually,” he said, handing me a hoof pick. “Come inside when you’re done and let me meet your sisters.”

Crakehall helped put away my tack and Beth’s, and then we all followed him into the small keep. I made introductions.

“Lord Lyle Crakehall of Castle Darry has allowed us to stay with him,” I told my sisters. “And this is his wife, Lady Amerei.”

None of my sisters made the silly “curtsey” motion, but all of them bowed their heads and murmured greetings.

“These are my sisters Dacey, Lyra and Jory,” I introduced them, “all birth daughters of Lady Maege Mormont and our sisters by adoption. And our healer and good friend, Melly.”

Dacey and Lady Amerei stared at one another.

“How did . . .” Amerei began.

“I know you,” Dacey said at the same time. “You were there.”

“I . . . they sent us away before . . .”

“You _knew_.”

Dacey began to draw her dagger; I placed my hand on her wrist and pressed the blade back into its sheath.

“Sister,” I said as gently as I could. “We are guests here.”

“Aye, and this bitch held the tray while I took Walder Frey’s bread and salt. She and the other Frey daughters even served us boiled eggs from their own hands. I’m thinking that guest right means no more here than it did at the Twins.”

I knew that people boiled eggs in this land, but hearing again of the barbaric practice repulsed me.

“Princess,” Lyle Crakehall said, trying to withhold his anger, “I’d ask you to restrain Lady Dacey’s tongue as well as that dagger.”

I nodded to him and moved between Dacey and Amerei, who had begun to cry. I faced my newest sister.

“Dacey,” I said. “We are not Freys. We will honor guest right.”

Lyra, sensing the request in my thoughts, came up alongside Dacey’s right, motioning to Tansy to do the same on her left.

“You knew what she is,” Dacey hissed at me. “You knew it and you let her live.”

She made to slap me, but I caught her hand in my own.

“I command House Mormont in matters of war,” I said. “We are at war, and you will obey my orders. You will not dishonor me or our shared house.”

She considered telling me that I was no Mormont and naming Tansy and I whores, but broke down into tears instead.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You broke me out of that hell. You killed Walder and the rest of them. I’m not worthy to call you sister, to call any of you sister.”

“Can we speak as reasonable folk now?” Crakehall broke in.

“I believe so,” I said.

“Good. Join us by the fire.” He did not frame it as a request.

“Tansy and I will stay here with Dacey,” Lyra said. I nodded.

With Jory and Beth I entered a small, comfortable room off the main entry hall; Melly remained with Dacey. We took seats on padded furniture known as “couches” in a semi-circle in front of a large fireplace. A pair of servants brought us all wine. Beth and Jory flanked me on one of the couches, facing our host and Lady Amerei.

“Now,” the castle’s lord said, taking his wife’s hand. “Can you explain what just happened?”

“Dacey Mormont was a guest at the Red Wedding,” I said. “She was said to have been killed there, but actually was badly wounded, imprisoned, starved and raped.”

“She has my deepest sympathies,” Crakehall said, with genuine feeling.

“Lady Amerei is a Frey by birth. She was present at the Red Wedding, at least in the early stages. My sister Dacey holds a great anger toward her.”

“So I saw on display in my very own hall. Lady Dacey said you freed her, and killed Walder.”

“Yes, this is true.”

“And how did this come to pass?”

I paused, unsure how to proceed.

“As you say, guest right has been invoked. Tell me the full story, the truth this time. It’s not as though any of you fear my sword.”

I nodded.

“Lady Maege Mormont of our house entrusted me with command of our small military force. Hundreds of Mormont soldiers and, we believed, my sister Dacey had been murdered at the Red Wedding. It is a small island; everyone knew someone killed in the massacre. Their rage and their pain are enormous. Lady Maege commanded me to resolve this blood feud by wiping out House Frey. And this is what I proceeded to do.”

“Your story of meeting Freys by the river was false?”

“For the most part. We fought them in their castle.”

“You attacked the Twins?”

“Only the castle on this side of the river.”

“You killed Walder Frey?”

“He fled by boat and we pursued; this is the true reason why we had little clothing and only two horses when we first arrived here. We caught him by the side of the river, I pronounced sentence and executed him. We also killed Genna Lannister and her husband Emmon Frey, who fled with Walder. Afterwards we met the Lannister and Beth killed him as he attempted to stab me, as she told you before. We took the Lannister’s horse, and the horse of his captor, a sellsword named Bronn.”

“You killed Bronn?” Crakehall asked.

“He attacked me by surprise, after he realized that I had killed his friend, Tyrion Lannister. I tackled him and jammed a chicken bone into his throat. Beth finished him.”

“The world needed to be shed of that bastard,” Crakehall said. His thoughts showed him unsure how to react; the violence and audacity of our assault shocked him, but he deeply disliked the Freys despite his love for one. “You killed the Imp, too? I thought he had fled to Essos.”

“He accompanied Daenerys Targaryen when she threatened Winterfell, each of them riding a dragon. I killed both of the dragons and Tyrion Lannister, and then I executed Daenerys for several murders she had committed.”

“And so John Carter is in Westeros looking to do the same for you.”

“Yes.”

“Who else was slain?” Lady Amerei whispered. “At the Twins?”

“Everyone in the eastern castle,” I said. “I killed a vile man named Lothar, and Beth killed Busty Betsy, Walder’s queen. After Beth, Tansy and I left in pursuit of Walder our soldiers burned the castle, and destroyed the bridge.”

“Lady Tansy is no warrior,” Crakehall said.

“She is skilled in the ways of boats.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “Riverlands girl.”

“Women as well?” Amerei asked. “Children?”

“All of the adults,” I said. “The children have been sent away. They will never know that they were Freys.”

She began to weep.

“Princess,” Crakehall said. “I’ll shed no tears for Walder, or for his sons. What they did at the Red Wedding was . . . beyond all laws of gods or men. But to slaughter the innocent, the women, to take the children . . . I have no words.”

“During war,” I said, “it is customary to slay one’s enemies. House Mormont did not start this war.”

“There’s no honor in such an assault.”

“You would have me challenge each Frey to come out of the castle and fight me individually? If they did not wish to die, perhaps they should have defended their walls.”

“I don’t know,” Crakehall said. “War didn’t turn out to be anything like the stories they told us.”

“Had I been there,” Lady Amerei asked, “would you have put your sword through my heart?”

I saw no reason to lie, and no way to make a lie believable.

“Yes.”

“My mother was there,” she said. “Did you kill her?”

“I do not know,” I said. “If she was in Walder’s throne room, I may have done so. Several women unskilled at arms tried to defend Walder; Beth and I cut them down. If she was elsewhere in the eastern castle, our soldiers likely killed her.”

“Do you wish to kill me?”

I had no answer. My sisters remained silent. Amerei stood and faced me, so I stood as well.

“Here,” she said, pulling off the wrap laid over her shoulders and exposing the tops of her breasts. She laid one finger between them. “I’ll make it easy. Put your dagger right here. Kill me now.”

“I cannot.”

“You killed my entire family. What’s one more? And don’t forget to steal my children when you’re done murdering me.”

“I have no wish to harm you.”

“But you would have if you’d met me a moon’s turn ago, in another castle, not even knowing my name.”

“Yes.”

“My lord husband called you honorable. He couldn’t praise you enough. But you’re no different than any of the others, any of you, except for those generous breasts and lovely faces. You all murder and call it honor.”

Lyle Crakehall stood and put his arm around his wife.

“Princess,” he said. “I think it best that all of you leave Castle Darry. I promised you ravens, and you shall have two of them as well as pen and ink.”

“I am sorry.”

“Don’t,” he said. “You did what your lady bade you do, and in her place I would have ordered the same. In your place I hope I would have refused, but I suspect not; I served Tywin Lannister. Even so, I can’t keep the slayers of my wife’s kin under my roof, bread and salt or no.”

“I understand.”

“Wait,” Beth Cassel said. “Lady Amerei, you knew of the plan to murder Robb Stark and his bannermen, including Dacey and Lady Catelyn.”

“Yes,” she answered, softly.

“And you said nothing. You helped give the Starks bread and salt, knowing it to be a lie. You allowed hundreds, perhaps thousands of people to be massacred.”

“I wasn’t there. They sent the women away first.”

“Yet you knew. You could have warned them. Instead you helped lull them. You had a part in their deaths.”

“I told you. They sent me away.”

“I’m not sure what this proves,” her husband said.

“We’re killers,” Beth said. “Even Jory is now. I have the blood of dozens of Freys on my hands, including women. I killed Walder’s queen. I put my sword through her heart even as she begged me for mercy. I killed men on their knees trying to yield. But Amerei’s no better than I. Her hands are just as red.”

“I raised no weapon,” Amerei said.

“Nor did you raise your voice,” Beth said. “You could have spoken.”

“Lord Walder would have had me killed!”

“Did you know that Dacey lived? Did you know what they did to her in the dungeon? The beatings? The rapes?”

She did know, but then as now, she said nothing. I placed my hand on Beth’s, and she fell silent.

“Lady Beth,” Crakehall said. “You know better than most how little voice a woman has in her own fate, let alone that of her house.”

“Have you ever been raped?” she asked him.

“No.”

“Have you ever been whipped?”

“No.”

“Have you ever been chained? Ever been put through a mock execution that made you shit yourself in terror?”

“No.”

“I have. I don’t regret anything we did at The Twins, and I’d do it all again.”

He sighed and looked at each of us, one by one.

“I would have thought all of you better than this.” He shook his head. “Gather your sisters and your horses, and await my man by the gate. He’ll bring your ravens and writing materials.”

“Will you tell John Carter of our presence?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “I’ll keep your secrets. I don’t know what to think about any of you, my lady wife included, but I won’t make things worse. Now please leave my home.”

* * *

We tacked up our horses and waited outside the gates for the servant, who secured two ravens in cages to one of our pack horses and stuffed a packet of writing materials into the same horse’s saddlebag. He also loaded several large sacks of the grain known as oats. He said nothing, and when he had finished we rode quietly into the gathering darkness, with Dacey and Beth to either side of me.

I had known, of course, that the people I killed left behind families who loved them, that I shattered the worlds of people I never knew when I drove my sword into a stranger’s heart. And as much as the encounter with Lady Amerei left me shaken, the knowledge that my little sister Jory had killed someone hurt even worse. I had wished to protect her innocence, but had led her into the Twins and allowed it to be sacrificed. She was on the path to becoming a soul-less killer like me. Or Beth Cassel.

“You left her alive, didn’t you?” Dacey asked when we were well out of sight of Castle Darry.

“I did.”

“Why?”

“We were guests,” I said. “And perhaps I am tired of the killing.”

“You know what they did to me,” she said. “You can feel it, can’t you?”

“Yes.”

“When I remember the rapes, do you feel it, too?”

“Yes. Just as I feel it from Beth.”

She turned to look at Beth.

“You were raped?”

“Many times,” Beth said, the memories having been stirred by her talk with Crakehall. “After Winterfell was taken, Theon fucking Greyjoy took my maidenhead right in the castle courtyard and laughed at the blood. Then he passed me on: Iron Born, Boltons, Tyroshi slavers. I was whipped and made a whore. I sought out Dejah to teach me to fight.”

Dacey looked downward at her horse’s neck and wept.

“I never asked. I wallowed in my own pain and never thought what might have happened to any of you.”

I pulled my horse close to hers. Beth brought her own horse to Dacey’s opposite side.

“I feel more than pain,” I said. “I also feel love. From Lyra, from Jory, from Beth too. All for you.”

“Not Tansy?”

“I cannot easily read her thoughts,” I said. “And she did not know you before I found you.”

“And you?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t know me either.”

“Lyra does, and what she knows . . .”

“You know,” Dacey completed the thought. “And feel.”

“Not exactly. But I trust her without question.”

“I just want my life back,” she said. “I feel like the whole world went mad while I was locked away.”

“Nothing ever remains the same,” I said. “I am your sister now, and I will help you however I can.”

“There was a time when all of my troubles could simply be smashed with my mace.”

“Tansy often reminds me that we cannot solve all of our problems by stabbing them.”

“The Lannisters solved theirs that way.”

“Did they?” I asked. “Jaime Lannister died with Beth’s sword in his eye. Tyrion Lannister died with my sword in his heart, as did Genna Lannister. Cersei Lannister with a spork I shoved between her breasts.”

“A spork?”

“An eating utensil with the tines of a fork and the bowl of a spoon.”

“Sounds useful. So you and Beth wiped out the Lannisters?”

“That segment of their family,” I said. “I do not know if there might be other branches.”

“They have cousins,” Dacey said. “I don’t know much of anything about them. We captured some in battle; it was a great crisis when one of King Robb’s bannermen murdered a Lannister cousin who was held captive.

“I’m glad you killed them. They planned the Red Wedding; the Freys were merely their instrument.”

“I knew the Freys to be too stupid to execute such a complex plot.”

“Are we going to kill the Lannisters next?”

“If Maege wishes it,” I said, “I will do my best to make it happen. But I know nothing of them or their stronghold, and surely it will be much more difficult than our attack on the Twins. We spent many months planning that assault.”

“Why did you kill Jaime Lannister?” Dacey asked Beth.

“He murdered Jory,” she said, elaborating when Dacey looked confused. “My other cousin Jory, Jory Cassel.”

“Jory Cassel,” Dacey mused. “He was my first, you know.”

I understood her to mean her first sex partner. She had received orgasm, which apparently was rare for a woman’s first sexual experience.

“I didn’t know,” Beth said.

“Are you not related?” I asked.

“No,” Dacey said. “He was my cousin’s cousin, not a blood relative. I fancied him, but Mother hoped for a marriage pact with Robb Stark. Lady Catelyn would not allow her perfect son to wed a bastard girl.”

“Sansa wished that you had married Robb Stark.”

“He was a boy,” Dacey laughed, “and years younger than I. He had the makings of a fine battle commander, but the same foolish notions of honor as his father.”

She petted her horse’s neck, thinking.

“If I had married him when Mother wished it, then the whole idiotic marriage dance with the Freys and that little Westerling slut might never have happened. But I would have wrecked him in bed.”

“Sansa thought the same. Except for the wrecking part.”

“You knew Sansa?”

“Not for long,” I said. “She was my friend, briefly, and then Jon Snow killed her and made her his Night’s Queen.”

“I thought you killed her?”

“I killed the not-dead creature she became.”

“The other Starks are dead as well?”

“I killed Jon Snow. A Frey killed Arya in a tavern fight. Brandon Stark somehow died when the Others were ended. Lord Reed told me this. Rickon Stark was killed by the Boltons.”

“We went to war out of loyalty to them,” Dacey said. “The Starks, I mean. ‘The North knows but one king and his name is Stark.’ I fought in King Robb’s royal guard.”

She looked across at Beth.

“Do you know what happened to Jeyne Westerling?”

“Who?”

“The little slut who seduced and married King Robb.”

“I was chained to a wall of my own home when that happened,” Beth said. “Everything that went on with the Starks after they left Winterfell is a vague blur to me.”

“I’d like to find her and kill her,” Dacey said, looking to me. “Does that seem harsh?”

“Possibly,” I said. “Did she have a role in the Red Wedding?”

“I . . .” Dacey paused. “That’s a really good question. I was about to say I didn’t think so, but using the little slut to seduce Robb and wreck the Frey alliance would be a very Lannister thing to do.”

“Maege ordered me to kill anyone with a role in the Red Wedding,” I said. “If we find this woman, I will question her. If she participated or had knowledge, you may kill her.”

“Thank you,” she said, thinking that she would kill this Jeyne Westerling person regardless of what I allowed, but then Dacey’s mind once again quickly shifted focus. “What happens to the North now?”

“Lyra did not tell you?”

“Some,” Dacey said. “Mother and the other lords hold power in the North. You and our sisters have been re-building the island, which is now secretly rich thanks to you.”

“Beth led us to the gold. I merely helped move it.”

We rode quietly for a few moments.

“I’m sorry about Jory, Beth,” Dacey finally said. “I’ve been so absorbed in my own pain that it’s easy to forget that I’m not the only one.”

“You’ve been through a great deal,” Beth said. “There was a point where I hated myself so, I demanded that Dejah kill me and leave me by the side of the road.”

“I’m glad she didn’t,” Dacey told her, then turned to me. “If I ask you to kill me, please just punch me in the face instead.”

“I shall do so.”

“But you mustn’t enjoy it.”

* * *

With darkness already fallen we sought an abandoned structure for the night, but all such buildings that we came upon were packed with refugees. With my sisters growing exhausted, I led us off the road into a patch of forest, following the noses of our horses and the night vision of Tansy’s raven. I eventually selected a small hollow covered by a great deal of brush, with no human thought patterns close by.

Most of the horses were strangers to me, so we hobbled them and piled ourselves on top of a canvas ground cloth. Melly shrugged and wriggled into the center of the pile. Lyra stood over us, though my telepathic senses remained alert even as I slept.

“You are so nicely warm,” Dacey whispered into my ear as she nestled against my back. “Are you going to fondle my tits?”

I recalled Asha Greyjoy’s final words to me.

“Only if you ask nicely,” I whispered back.

Lyra woke me some time later and I took over the watch; I detected no approaching thought patterns and when the time seemed right I woke Beth and took her place in the mass of sisters. I awoke feeling troubled and confused. I wished we were back among the high gray cliffs, swaying trees and rocky beaches of Bear Island, eating the red-fleshed fish known as salmon and luxuriating in the baths. Feeling the storm winds beat against the heavy wooden shutters. Lying before the fire, cuddling Beth as Tansy read to us. I would not mind hauling garbage every day if it meant I could remain in my home with my sisters.

And that was why I had to be here, seeking John Carter. I had to keep my sisters, my home and my adoptive family safe. Alysane had been correct; the Dothraki could not swim and it would be very difficult if not impossible for John Carter to assemble a fleet in the waters of the Bay of Ice. But my adoptive sister had apparently forgotten that John Carter still had one dragon left, and one dragon could devastate our island.

* * *

Having been cast out of Castle Darry, we now had no base of operations and no idea of how to proceed. We performed the morning exercises, and then sat cross-legged in a circle to discuss our dilemma. I took a spot between Lyra and Dacey, with Beth and Jory on the other side of them while Melly and Tansy sat directly across from me.

“You’re right to want to turn John Carter away from the North,” Dacey said to me. “But I don’t see how you can achieve that.”

“We have ravens,” Jory said. “We can write to him, ask for a meeting.”

“If he doesn’t remember his life on Barstool,” Tansy said, “he may try to kill Dejah. We’re not going to let her sacrifice herself, not for anything.”

“Barsoom,” I corrected her. “And if sacrifice is necessary, I will make it.”

“There’s no possible combination,” Lyra said, “where you die and I survive. Or Beth. You throw away your life then you’re killing us, too.”

“You are using my love for you as a weapon against me.”

“Whatever it takes,” Beth said. “You weren’t satisfied with friendship. You wanted us to be _sisters_. You can’t take that back.”

“Dacey did not make that choice.”

“Dacey’s been dead once,” Dacey said, speaking of herself in an odd, distant manner. “She’ll stand by her sisters. All of her sisters. If it’s all the same, she’d prefer not to die again.”

“You would fight for me?”

“Not very well,” Dacey said. “But yes.”

“Dejah,” Beth said, “when we stormed Walder’s throne room, he said he knew we were coming. Do you know who told him?”

“No,” I said. “I had meant to question him, but by the time we caught him I simply wanted him dead. That was a serious error on my part.”

“If you hadn’t killed him then, I would have,” she said. “I couldn’t take hearing him gurgle about ‘the little Cassel bitch’ one more time.”

“You kill everyone who calls us bitches,” Dacey said, “soon there’ll be no men left. You might not have any need for a man, but some of us do. Who do you think told Walder?”

“Lady Barbrey,” Tansy said immediately.

“Maester Rolston,” Lyra said at the same time.

“Rolston’s dead,” Jory said. “It couldn’t have been him.”

“We were already planning the attack,” Lyra said. “That would explain why Walder only knew we were coming, not when we were coming.”

“Rolston’s dead?” Dacey asked. “Gray-cowled bastard was always staring at my tits. I hope one of you killed him.”

“He hanged himself,” Tansy explained. “After my raven found out he was trading messages with someone in King’s Landing.”

“The raven?”

“See!” the raven explained from his perch on Tansy’s knee. “See! See!”

“I see,” Dacey addressed the bird. “Do you know who was receiving the messages?”

“Ras!” the raven said. “Ras! Ras!”

“He usually makes more sense than that,” Tansy said. “I don’t know what he means.”

“Ras!” the raven repeated an unusual fourth time. His thoughts included only the name; he had never seen the person, only learned the name from another raven. I knew no one by that name on this planet, though I had on Barsoom.

“I doubt Walder was in touch with King’s Landing,” Tansy said. “Since he’d crowned himself king. That leaves Lady Barbrey. Dejah and I had an unpleasant encounter with her, and she threatened us.”

“Could she have known our plans?” I wondered aloud.

“We took close to seven hundred men to the Twins,” Lyra said. “It’s possible someone knew someone who knew Barbrey. Walder knew our names, and knew who Dejah was. That does sound like Barbrey’s doing. I’m coming around to Tansy’s thinking here.”

“When we’ve settled with John Carter,” Dacey said, “we’re killing Barbrey Dustin. Is she still fucking her maester? We’ll kill him, too.”

“You are building a long list,” I told her. “Lyra and I killed her brothers in single combat.”

“Well, that was a good start,” Dacey said, her words increasing their pace. “And yes, I have a list. We’re She-Bears, remember? We’re filled with pent-up rage we unleash when someone hurts our own. Jeyne Westerling, her mother, Barbrey Dustin. Any Lannisters you and Beth left alive. Any other house that knelt to the Freys, Lannisters or Boltons. There were Vyprens at the Twins, and Charltons. _We’ll kill them all._ ”

I checked Dacey’s thoughts and found them racing, seething with rage and bloodlust. I pulled her close to me and wrapped my right arm around her waist.

“Dacey,” I said softly. “It is all right. No one will harm you again. I will not let them.”

“And what if John Carter kills you? What then?”

“If I must sacrifice myself to protect you, I will do so. I have spoken.”

“You can’t protect us if you’re dead,” Dacey said, her voice breaking. “You stand between my sisters and hell. I’ve been to hell. Don’t let it take them.”

I knew from Lyra’s troubled thoughts that Dacey had been nothing like this before her captivity; she had been confident, brave and strong. And she would be so again, if I could divert John Carter from his vengeance.

* * *

I sat next to Tansy as we composed the brief letter to John Carter. It told him how badly I had missed him, how deeply I loved him, and how desperately I wished to see him again, even though I no longer believed any of those to be true. I wrote in the letters of Barsoom, and Tansy wrote the same message for me in the letters of Westeros.

“If he doesn’t remember you, he will think you quite disturbed.”

“It is only the truth,” I said. “At least it is the truth I wish to tell him.”

“You don’t love him anymore.”

“I do not think so,” I said. “I only want to be with you, and our sisters, on Bear Island.”

The raven took wing; I knew it was unlikely to return. Ravens could carry messages from one so-called “rookery” to another, and from another location to a rookery, but could not find individuals in other places. Tansy’s raven was unusual in this regard.

We had one of Crakehall’s ravens remaining, and gave this bird a letter for Maege explaining all that had occurred since the Twins, including the rescue of Dacey, and my determination to turn John Carter away from Bear Island. I hoped that she would understand my need to protect my new family.

Lyra and Beth sparred while Jory and Melly built a fire and prepared food for us. Dacey attempted to help but she remained very weak and could offer them little useful assistance. That left Tansy and I alone for a few moments.

“You keep saying that you’ll turn John Carter away from Bear Island,” she said softly. “Do you mean to kill him?”

I thought about her question.

“I do not know,” I said. “I am torn by many feelings. If he must die so that you would be safe, then yes, I would kill him or at least attempt to do so. I do not wish for that to happen.”

“Let’s run,” Tansy said. “The six of us. We have gold. We can ride for Maidenpool or some other port, take ship for the Free Cities and disappear. He has no idea who Melly is; she can take ship for White Harbor and then ride back to Bear Island with word of where we’ve gone.”

“Bear Island,” I said. “He would take out his wrath on our family and our people. I could not bear to have them harmed.”

“We’ll tell Maege to disown us. As far as anyone outside the island knows, anyway.”

“He will see through the ruse. He is not as intelligent as some, but he can read thoughts as I can.”

“I thought he valued honor above all.”

“Yet here we are,” I said. “Hiding in the forest as his followers devastate the lands west of here.”

“I’d let the world burn if it meant being with you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next chapter, Dejah and her sisters fight a battle not their own.
> 
> Note: I've decided to extend this story, folding in some of the next volume.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris faces her greatest challenge.

Chapter Seventeen

Still unsure of our course but unable to hide in the woods without food, we rode up the unpaved track toward its intersection with the Kingsroad at the river crossing known as the Ruby Ford. We had asked John Carter to meet me here; I probably should have thought to examine the site first.

Lyra remained deeply upset by Dacey’s condition, and I noticed that she arranged to ride alongside me most of the time. As always, I felt greatly relaxed in her company, and it seemed as though our mental connection had strengthened despite our time apart.

“I feel it, too,” she answered, though I had not spoken aloud. “I suppose I should be feeling closer to Dacey, but I feel closer to you, now.”

We rode quietly for a time, listening to the squeak of leather and the silence of one another’s thoughts.

“Is this what your people mean by love?”

I considered her question, but knew my thoughts would only confuse her without better context.

“It is an element,” I finally answered. “It is a way to show how we feel, but it is not the feeling itself.”

“It’s a way to say, ‘I love you’?”

“Yes. We feel love the same way that you do.”

“I know.”

“Yes, you do. We simply can share that feeling more directly than with words.”

“You knew this feeling all your life,” Lyra asked, “and have been without it since coming here? To our world?”

I had been without it for some years before then; I now realized that I shared closer bonds with my sisters than I ever had with my husband. He had never tried to share his thoughts with me.

“I could not read John Carter’s thoughts,” I said. “While he told me that he loved me, I never felt it as I did with my family, my children, my sister Thuvia or with my previous husbands. Two of them, that is. Or that I feel now with you.”

“Husbands? Plural? Just how many have you had?”

“John Carter is my fifth husband. Or was.”

“Why did you never tell me this?”

“You never asked.”

“That’s a rather large secret to keep from your sister. Does Tansy know?”

“I am not used to describing my life in words. I do not recall telling Tansy. Only Gilly has asked me such questions.”

“We’ve been sisters for over two years and I only now learn that you have children?”

“You did not ask. I never asked you, either. I believed it was considered rude to do so. Early in my stay here I asked many questions I believed innocent that angered or offended people.”

“Dejah,” she said, somewhat annoyed. “You need not keep secrets from me.”

“I am not keeping them. I saw no need to offer information no one sought.”

“Well, I’m asking you now.”

“You know that I love you,” I said. “Please do not be upset with me.”

“You’re not answering.”

I drew in my breath; I had been unaware of how uncomfortable the question made me. Women here were expected to love and cherish their children; women of Barsoom had lesser emotional ties to their offspring and, were I honest with myself, I had far less than most. I did not wish to confront a lifetime of selfishness.

“I am not sure how many of my eggs were used to create soldiers,” I finally said. “But I have had thirty-one acknowledged sons and forty acknowledged daughters. One of each still lives, or did when I left Barsoom.”

“Seventy-one children?” she gasped. “You’re jesting.”

“I am not.”

“Just how old are you?”

“Four hundred and forty-two of our world’s years, which I believe translates to slightly more than eight hundred of yours.”

“And only Gilly knows this?”

“She is the keeper of my secrets.”

“Which you just said aren’t actually secrets,” Lyra said, still somewhat annoyed. She sighed. “Anyone else?”

“Gendry knows that I have a son. My son looks very much like him, except for his skin tone.”

“John Carter is his father?”

“Yes.”

“How is that possible? You lay eggs, do you not?”

“It took a great deal of effort from our scientists. Many attempts failed.”

John Carter and I shared a daughter as well; for the first time since my arrival on this world I wondered if Tara still lived and was well.

“How old are you?” I changed the subject. “Have you borne any children?”

“Four-and-twenty. One miscarriage, no living children.”

“I did not mean to keep secrets from you,” I finally said. “I never thought to offer them. I am sorry and do not want you to be upset with me.”

Feeling my sincerity, my sister smiled at me.

“It’s not like I offered to tell you about the child I lost, either,” she said.

“Did you not tell me that you had never carried a child?”

“I probably did. It’s not something I speak of.”

“It causes you pain.”

“Not as much as it once did. But sometimes.”

I had not detected her deception; I realized that my sister had told the lie so often that her thoughts did not show the usual disruption when a person lies. I slid my horse close to hers so I could take her hand.

“I am sorry,” I said. “I feel your pain, and it hurts me.”

She laughed.

“People say that all the time,” she said. “You actually do. This isn’t always a gift, reading thoughts, is it?”

“Not always. Sometimes it is. I feel love as well. Joy. Gratitude. Wonder.”

“And receiving orgasm,” she smiled.

“Yes. And receiving orgasm.”

* * *

A defense of sorts had been erected at the Ruby Ford. Perhaps 500 men milled about, wearing dirty white tunics emblazoned with home-made versions of the seven-pointed star that symbolized the region’s dominant religion. They had thrown up an earthen wall across the road just before it met the river and dug a ditch in front of it. Sharpened wooden stakes had been placed on the wall and in the water-filled ditch.

The recruits – I hesitated to call them soldiers – did not challenge our arrival since, as their thoughts revealed, we were not Dothraki. We dismounted, and Beth remained to guard the horses along with Dacey, Jory and Tansy. Lyra and I set out on foot to learn more of what we had found. The men did not wish to speak with us, answering our questions as briefly as possible and often with gestures rather than words.

After some pointing and grunting by the foot soldiers we finally found their commander, an older man whose rueful thoughts indicated had once been a knight. He wore a striped cloak of many colors, now faded, and a sword that had clearly seen a great deal of use.

“She-Bears,” he said, not unkindly. “Far from home. And you would be the Daughter of the Red Star?”

“Dejah Thoris,” I said. “Once a princess, now an adoptive daughter of House Mormont. This is my sister, Lyra Mormont.”

“Theodan Wells,” he answered, bowing to each of us. “Once a knight, now a Warrior’s Son and commander of the Faith Militant, at least of this mob.”

“You’re a Northman,” Lyra said.

“Aye. House Wells, from north-east of the Dreadfort. Word is all of my kin were taken by the Others. Would have taken still more, but for your sister here.”

Though his family had been killed, he respected me for saving the rest of the North.

“My men,” he asked, “they were not overly rude?”

“No one said anything out of line,” Lyra said. “No one said much of anything at all.”

“My apologies,” he said. “The Faith Militant swears off laying with women. That doesn’t mean we swear off courtesy. Some can’t tell the difference. I was little different, not long ago.”

He rubbed his hand over his face.

“I suppose you She-Bears keep the Old Gods?”

“I do,” Lyra said.

“Then this is the point when I’m supposed to condemn you as abominations in the sight of the gods and so forth.”

“There are no gods,” I said.

“After what I’ve seen,” Ser Theodan said, “I shan’t argue the point.”

“Tell us,” Lyra said, “please.”

The one-time knight led Lyra and I to the fighting platform just below the top of his little earthen fortification. Across the river we saw more of the same: abandoned buildings and empty pastures, the grass within still short in these last days of winter. No people came up the road, but no mounted warriors could be seen, either.

“We have the ford covered. If the Dothraki try to charge across, we might repel them if discipline holds.”

“Discipline will not hold,” I said.

“No, it won’t. But the lords and their knights and their levies are afraid to fight these sons of demons. So perhaps we can shame them into resisting, by our sacrifice.”

“That is not likely,” I said.

“No, it’s not. But I know my duty, and I’ll perform it.”

“Have you seen Dothraki?” Lyra asked.

“A few. They ride up into that open ground to taunt us. We sent out mounted scouts; they came back tied to their horses and mutilated. Heads sewn on backwards, cocks stuffed in mouths, that sort of thing. At times they impale their prisoners, set them up on poles to die slowly within our sight.

“Pardon the language, my ladies. I am tired.”

“It is nothing,” I said. “I grieve for your loss.”

“I thank you.”

“How often do the Dothraki appear?” Lyra asked.

“No less than every other day,” the old knight said. “Often every day. Always at first light.”

“For how long has this gone on?” she continued.

“Perhaps half of a moon’s turn,” he answered. “They were already there when we arrived and they watched us build this wall. They did nothing to interfere.”

We climbed back down off the wall.

“Why,” Lyra asked, “have they not attacked you?”

“I suspect they have no intention of crossing the river. It’s not suited to grazing large herds of horses over here, not like it is on the west bank. If they meant to come over here, they would have already.”

“Thank you for your time,” I said. “May your gods give you strength.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in them.”

“I do not. But may your belief give you strength.”

“Thank you.”

We left the holy warrior and rejoined our sisters, telling them what we had seen and heard.

“So if we want to nab a Dothraki,” Beth observed, “we’re going to have to cross into their territory.”

“Is it already their territory?” Tansy asked.

“If it is not now, it will be soon,” I answered. “The commander is a fanatic, yet he did not press his gods on us. He is frightened. As he should be.”

* * *

We camped amid the trees some distance behind their fortification, well away from any of the men, and the next morning I climbed to the fighting platform with Lyra and Dacey while our sisters remained with our horses. The watchers on the wall seemed excited, and when we reached the top of the wooden stairs we saw why. Three Dothraki could be seen across the river, riding in tight circles and gesturing.

“They do this most every morning,” Ser Theodan said. “It’s a challenge to three-on-three combat.”

“You know this?” I asked. He shrugged.

“Everything they do is a call to combat,” he said. “Doesn’t take much to figure that out.”

“Are we going to fight them?” Dacey asked.

“If I had a written message,” I said, “I would fight them, kill two and give the message to the third.”

“I have a copy of the letter Tansy wrote to your husband,” she said. “Let’s fight them.”

“You are not ready to fight.”

“Still doesn’t even the odds,” she said. “You’d kill all three by yourself.”

I slid down the front of the earthwork on my feet, with Lyra and Dacey following. Some slices of dead trees had been placed in the watery ditch to allow people to cross with dry feet.

“There is nothing sure,” I said. “The greatest warrior can be felled by the least.”

“Confidence,” Lyra said. “Isn’t that what you keep teaching us?”

“The border is thin,” I said, “between confidence and stupidity.”

As we approached the Dothraki, they dismounted and unslung oddly-shaped swords from across their backs; they had no scabbards. The blades began as a normally-shaped sword, and then made a deep round curve.

“We fight,” said the one in the middle, “to death.”

Lyra and I drew our swords; Dacey kept hers sheathed.

“Leave this one alive,” I said. “Kill the other two.”

Lyra spun forward as I spoke; the Dothraki opposite her moved to block her sword but never saw the dagger in her left hand until she buried it in his chest. I kicked the speaker’s left knee, sending him to the ground with a howl of pain, and slashed downward across the leftmost Dothraki’s sword arm. His severed hand and curved blade had not yet reached the ground when my sword reached his heart.

Dacey picked up the speaker’s sword where he had dropped it after I shattered his knee.

“Strange,” she said. “Unbalanced and heavy for its size.”

“Many peoples of my world favor unbalanced blades,” I said. “They reward expertise.”

“Didn’t help him any.”

I squatted next to the surviving Dothraki, the only one of the three who spoke the language of Westeros. I pulled out a dagger from a sheath on his leg, and he expected that I would now cut his throat. Instead I cut off the long braid into which he had woven his hair; his thoughts had indicated that cutting this was a sign of defeat and submission. He had feared the loss of his hair more than he had the loss of his life.

“You will be allowed to live,” I said. “You will take this message to John Carter.”

Dacey squatted alongside me, patting the Dothraki’s leather vest until she found a small interior pocket. She held up the rolled letter for the Dothraki to see and then stuffed it inside his pocket.

“My apologies,” she told him. “If I were well, I’d have killed you and spared you the shame.”

“Who are you?” the Dothraki grunted.

“My name is Dejah Thoris,” I said. “These are my sisters. I killed your khaleesi and her dragons. John Carter is my husband. You will take him this message.”

Lyra had found a discarded spear and handed it to me.

“Snap it into pieces about this long,” she said, holding her hands apart. “He’ll never ride if we don’t bind up his leg.”

I broke the spear as Lyra had directed; she and Dacey worked to splint his shattered leg.

“Khal John married khaleesi,” the Dothraki said to me. “You his whore.”

I took hold of his chin firmly enough to cause him pain, and turned his face so he looked into my red eyes. Though frightened by them, he gave no outward sign.

“You are mistaken, Lanqo of the Dothraki.” He started at the sound of his name, which I had found in his thoughts. “And fortunate that I have need of you. I married John Carter in the palace of my grandfather. Your khaleesi was the whore, a sex-crazed barbarian who fucked my husband. That is why I cut off her head.”

Despite John Carter’s regard for his honor, this was not the first time he had engaged in sex with a woman he had met while adventuring. Nor was it the first time I had killed one of his lovers; I recalled my dagger slipping under the perfect left breast of the beautiful Thern priestess Phaidor, piercing her foul heart before I shoved her off the edge of an air glider. We of Barsoom do not demand sexual fidelity of our spouses, unlike John Carter’s supposed standards, but like Daenerys, Phaidor had tried to kill me.

“Be sure to tell John Carter that,” Dacey interrupted my reverie. “Including the part where she fell to her knees and begged for her life.”

Daenerys had not done this, but had died spitting hatred and defiance at me. Dacey had not been present.

“Warlord cut me in half, I say this about khaleesi.”

“He calls himself warlord?” I asked. That had been his title on Barsoom.

“In this land he is warlord,” the man answered. “Khal of khals among us.”

“He is quick to anger?”

“He kills those who do not please him. Ever since khaleesi died.”

The man spoke the truth; he saw no reason to lie. John Carter had not acted in this manner on Barsoom, though I knew he had the capacity for great violence. Had he become a more violent man through his life with the Dothraki? Perhaps in his transition from Barsoom to this planet, or from the trauma of Daenerys’ death?

From the Dothraki’s memories, his leader did not seem like my John Carter. Lanqo had ridden with John Carter for over two years and fought with him in many battles. They were not close friends, but he had observed my husband at close range.

“We’re ready,” Lyra said, again snapping my mind back to the present. “Lift him and I’ll fit him into the saddle.”

“I’ll hold the horse,” Dacey offered, taking hold of the animal’s bridle. It did not object to her touch. I lifted the Dothraki while Lyra secured his injured leg to his saddle. He felt a great deal of pain and wished to scream, but only grunted.

“Take the message to John Carter,” I said. “Do not fail in this task. I will know.”

“You have his wizard ways,” Lanqo said, “and know my thoughts?”

“I do,” I said. “You have three children.”

He nodded; I had passed his test.

* * *

The holy warriors said nothing as we climbed back into their fortification; within their thoughts many expressed shock that two women had killed two Dothraki fairly easily and taken a third prisoner; they had lost nearly fifty men to the Dothraki and as far as they knew none of their enemies had been harmed in exchange.

“What was all that?” their commander asked.

“We sent a letter to their khal of khals,” Dacey said. “We had to get his attention somehow.”

“You’ve challenged John Carter?” Ser Theodan asked me.

“He was once my husband,” I said. “His quarrel is with me, not the people of this land.”

“He’ll kill you,” the old knight said.

“Were you paying attention just now?” Dacey asked him.

“Or you’ll kill him,” Ser Theodan allowed. “Either way, he’ll come with thousands of men at his back.”

“You do not wish to remain,” I said, picking his reluctance out of his thoughts. “Whatever the outcome of my encounter with John Carter, the Dothraki will have no interest in crossing the river afterwards. You may retreat with your honor intact.”

“I’m not sure I believe that last bit,” he said. “But if I don’t order a withdrawal, I might have no men left come morning.”

His soldiers’ thoughts confirmed his fears; those nearby had overheard Dacey and Ser Theodan, and they did not intend to await death from the curved swords of the Dothraki. Already whispers spread through the rest.

* * *

The holy warriors pulled out of their camp in some disorder, leaving behind a great many of their tents, weapons, clothing and food, but taking all of their horses. By early afternoon most had passed out of sight; Ser Theodan remained with his rear guard to offer his apologies.

“May the gods strengthen your sword-arm,” he told me, kissing my hand. “Though you believe in them not, they do support the righteous.”

“How do you know that I am the righteous?”

“I’ve seen what John Carter has brought to Westeros,” he said. “It’s nothing short of hell, of outright evil. You are Azor Ahai. You’ve been the instrument of the gods once already. It’s no stretch to believe it their will that you save us all once again. You are not in this place by accident.”

He paused, and called his men over. About a hundred of them, the most dedicated fighters who Ser Theodan had assigned to protect the retreat, surrounded us.

“This woman is Azor Ahai,” he said loudly, “at once the instrument of the gods and a challenge to our faith. She is a woman, as you all can see, with form and face none could mistake. Yet she is stronger than any man. She holds no gods. She lays with other women.”

The holy warriors began to murmur angrily. I slid my sword-belt off my shoulder, so I could draw quickly. Lyra did the same while subtly pushing Dacey behind us.

“She defeated the Night’s King in single combat! She saved all of us: our lives, our homes, our very civilization. She slew two dragons, the vile beasts of hell sent to ravage our lands. The gods have tested us by taking one so contrary to our sacred belief as their champion.

“Is our faith strong enough? To cast aside the blindness and see what the gods have given?”

He turned back to face me, drew his sword and went to one knee, sticking the blade into the ground before him.

“Dejah Thoris!” he shouted. “Champion of the Gods!”

His men followed suit, bellowing the same. I stood in silence, too surprised to answer.

“May the gods be with you,” he said as he rose.

“And also with you,” I replied.

He bowed again, mounted and rode away. I had expected scorn from those who followed their religion; I had not anticipated veneration. Many of his men bowed before me, knelt or even kissed my hand. A few did the same before Lyra. Others slunk away without acknowledging us.

Ser Theodan truly believed what he said, as did at least half of his men. Yet none offered to stay and fight alongside me.

* * *

The Faith Militant had abandoned their camp in haste, leaving behind almost everything except their weapons, horses and the clothing they wore. We now had plenty of food, and settled in to await John Carter’s reply. We took over Ser Theodan’s large and well-made tent, with a fine iron stove for cooking and several soft beds on foldable legs. Most of his soldiers had slept in the open on thin bedrolls, but their commander apparently had limits to his asceticism. We ate well that evening, with fried slices of ham and potatoes and some very fine mushrooms. Ser Theodan had also left behind several skin bags filled with wine.

We filled in the open cesspits left behind by the holy warriors; truly, their camp stood out in my mind as one of the filthiest I had ever encountered. Each morning we trekked well upstream to bathe and draw clean water, and at my direction we boiled every drop we drank or used in cooking.

On our sixth day in the abandoned camp, a single Dothraki rider approached the ramparts, making an elaborate dance with his horse. Dacey, who had the watch, called me to the rampart. My remaining sisters followed me up the wooden steps to the fighting platform.

“What in all the hells does he want?” Dacey asked.

“He has a message,” I said, reading the man’s thoughts. “I will go and collect it.”

I climbed over the earthwork alone, telling my sisters to remain. Beth ignored me and scrambled over the edge alongside me. A scan of the surrounding area showed that no one else had come within my telepathic range. Seeing our approach, the man jammed a spear into the ground and rode away.

We walked across the open ground to where the Dothraki had performed his dance. A piece of animal skin had been tied to the butt of the spear. Beth untied it, unrolled it and read it.

“What does it say?” I asked.

“It’s from John Carter,” she said. “He says he’ll meet his wife’s murderer in single combat tomorrow, at this very place, and that he means to kill her.”

This seemed most unlike John Carter, who had always maintained that he did not wish to fight women, that men held a duty to protect women.

Beth handed me the scroll. The message had been written in the harsh, angular letters of this land. I could see John Carter’s signature affixed to the brief message, in his own homeland’s letters as well as those of Westeros but not those of Barsoom.

“Dejah,” Beth said, “Tansy’s right. Let’s mount up, ride away and take ship to somewhere else.”

“I must protect our people.”

“ _I_ am your people,” she said, her face becoming flushed. “And I’ll die without you. You know it’s true. You can feel how much I love you, how little there is of me without you.”

“If there were so little of you,” I said, “there would be nothing for me to love.”

“Dejah,” she said again, tears on her face. “Don’t do this.”

I touched her face, then kissed her softly.

“You are my mistress,” I said. “And I love you with all of my being. But we will have to part someday. That is the way of all mortals.”

“I’m not ready for that day.”

“Nor am I. I will do my best to survive, as when I fought the dragon.”

She nodded, took my hand and we started back to the little fortification. 

* * *

I slept poorly that night, though my sisters clustered tightly around me. I rose with the sun, washed myself from the basin we had filled with clean water and put on the two-piece black outfit Pia had made for me, which my sisters had brought along from the Twins with the rest of my belongings.

Beth dressed to match me, as did Lyra – she had asked Pia for a similar outfit, and kept it a secret to surprise me. It pleased me that the three of us had the same look, but that did little to ease my apprehension. No one spoke much at all; the tension seemed to make the air itself feel thicker than usual.

As we left the tent, Lyra finally broke the silence.

“I don’t suppose you and Jory will agree to stay here with Dacey and Melly,” she quietly asked Tansy.

“You’d be right,” my first sister said. “I won’t be separated from my sister.”

“All right, then,” Lyra said. “Let’s saddle all of the horses and keep them on this side of the wall. Melly will stay here to hold them. If John Carter shows up with a horde of Dothraki, we run for it.”

“Let hope you don’t need me on the other side of that wall,” Melly said. “Won’t the horses stay here if the princess tells them to?”

“They will,” I said. “You may stay here or come with us, as you choose.”

“Come this far with you,” the healer said. “Might as well see it through.”

After saddling the horses, we climbed over the wall and could see several riders approaching in the distance.  We crossed the river and walked a short distance up the road to await them.

As they drew near, I could make out six riders; the thoughts of five showed them to be Dothraki. I could not read the thoughts of the sixth man, who rode slightly ahead of them. As he drew closer I recognized my husband; he wore leather leggings like the Dothraki but no tunic, only a sword-belt holding a longsword at his side rather than the curved blades of his companions. He looked much as I remembered him, with heavily-muscled chest and arms, a narrow waist and jet-black hair. He was a beautiful man, and he had come here to kill me.

He dismounted. I signaled to my sisters to remain in place and approached, my heart filled with conflicting emotions. Part of me eagerly wished reunion, while a larger part feared what might happen next.

“John Carter!” I called to him.

“Stop!” he replied. “Come no closer.”

I slowly halted. Did he not remember me?

“You are Dejah Thoris?”

“Of course I am. Do you not recognize your wife?”

“My wife is dead. I’m told that you killed her, that you lured her to her death in the far north and murdered her under a flag of truce.”

“Who told you such lies?”

“A reliable informant. Now, who are you, Dejah Thoris?”

“I am your wife. Your princess. Who you wooed and won on Barsoom. We married in Helium, under the moons Cluros and Thuria. I am yours and you are mine.”

While I could not read his thoughts, as always I could receive impressions of his emotions – in this case, deeply-felt hatred and rage.

“Lunatic babble, madam,” he said. “You are a murderer. As Khal of Khals, I sentence you to die. Kneel.”

“You have lost your mind as well as your memory,” I said. The pain in my heart struck deeply as my knees buckled slightly. Despite his evil acts, part of me still loved my husband. “You have unleashed pain and suffering, rape and destruction, upon tens of thousands of innocent people. I loved you once, for your honor, your courage and your decency. What sort of monster have you become?”

He drew his sword and advanced on me. I drew mine.

I do not know how long I parried his attacks, but the swordplay went on for a seemingly endless time. He had apparently retained the unnatural strength and speed he had known on Barsoom when he came to this planet, along with his great skill with a blade. Yet I also had enhanced strength and speed, perhaps equal to his, and a great deal of experience that I now hoped would keep me alive.

I could not bring myself to strike, and so I continued to only defend and try to break through to John Carter’s memories.

“Why are you doing this? I am your wife. I am your princess and you are my chieftain.”

“You killed my wife.”

“I killed a madwoman who had murdered hundreds of people and wanted to murder many more. She ordered her dragon to burn two people, good and honest men, in front of my eyes. And she was not your wife. You already have a wife.”

“You are clearly insane. You’ve killed an untold number of innocents, including my friend Tyrion and the gentle Missandei. You are evil beyond redemption, and I’m going to end you today.”

Lyra and Beth started to move up on either side of me, believing me outmatched and wishing to join the fight. I silently told them both to remain behind and not to distract me.

Yet I was already badly distracted. Tears ran down my face and blurred my vision. I saw the blade coming but I was just the tiniest fraction of a second too late to block it. The sword struck directly between my breasts and I felt enormous, searing pain spread out from my chest. The pain blotted out almost every sense; I lost feeling in my legs and fell to my knees, onto my side and then slowly rolled onto my back.

I heard my sisters scream.

I dropped my sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next chapter, Beth Cassel fights alone to avenge her fallen sister.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Little Beth Cassel battles the greatest swordsman of two worlds.

Chapter Eighteen

“Dejah!” Tansy screamed. Suddenly I was propped in my sister’s arms as she wept uncontrollably. Jory slid to her knees on the opposite side of me while Lyra stood over us, her feet straddling my legs and her sword drawn. I felt Dacey kneel behind my head, her hand on Tansy’s shoulder.

Lyra rocked gently back and forth, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. She had felt the sword enter my chest through our telepathic link, and her breath came very hard as the pain surged through her own body. Beth stood by her shoulder, her own sword drawn and ready. For some reason, the thought struck me that she had very muscular thighs for an otherwise slender woman.

“Stay away from my sisters,” Lyra growled at John Carter. “Step one foot closer and I’ll kill you where you stand.”

“Don’t throw your life away for a murderer,” he told her, even as he backed up several steps. “She killed my wife.”

“No. She _is_ your wife. She loved you so much that she came to another world to find you. And you killed her.”

“That is not my wife.”

I did not want my adoptive sisters to die for me. I tried to speak, to tell them to move away and let me die, but could make no sound. John Carter would probably kill me but I did not think he would hurt my sisters unless they fought him. At least I hoped he would not.

Beth stepped away from Lyra, silently taking up the right flank position in the paired style I had taught them. She twirled her sword slowly, and like a fighting woman of Helium traced her off-hand across the ground and snarled. Lyra moved to the left and did the same. Lyra knew she could not match John Carter’s strength, speed and skill, but she would give her life for a small chance of defending her sisters.

“You can read minds just like she can,” Lyra said. “You know I’m telling you the truth.”

“She killed my wife. She deserved to die.”

“Is that what gentlemen of Virginia call honor, oathbreaker?”

“How do you know about Virginia? How do you know that I can read minds?”

“From your wife,” Lyra said. “Your real wife. Dejah Thoris.”

“Not that insane slut Daenerys,” Beth added.

I could only receive scattered thoughts through my pain. Lyra had felt my injury as though it were her own, and moved slowly as if she had actually been hurt. I understood that while Lyra hoped to protect Dacey, Tansy and Jory, considering me already dead, Beth Cassel seethed with rage and meant to kill John Carter even if it cost her own life.

Lyra’s words had seemed to break through to my husband, but he became filled with rage of his own when Beth insulted Daenerys. He immediately attacked. John Carter remained lightning-fast; he apparently identified Lyra’s weakness and moved against her first. She blocked his first strike and he stepped back; he then attacked again from a seemingly-impossible angle. His sword screeched against hers as it came inside her guard and entered her chest above her left breast. She fell backward even as Beth spun forward and slashed at his throat and face. He dodged almost as swiftly as he had attacked, but the point of her sword opened his left forearm from elbow to wrist. He somehow parried the back-swing she aimed again at his throat, but she skipped her blade over his sword’s crossguard to dig the point into his right wrist.

John Carter grunted in pain and dropped his sword. He hunched forward to instinctively hold the gaping wound along the outside of his left arm closed with his right hand rather than try to draw his other sword. Beth made to run him through and finish him, but he again dodged the thrust and it went deeply into the left side of his upper chest instead, almost exactly where he had stabbed Lyra. Beth kicked him in the side to free her sword, though the blow failed to knock him to the ground.

While my mistress fought my husband, Melly gently pushed Jory to the side to examine my injury. Her face remained expressionless as she concentrated on her task.

“You should be dead,” she muttered. “Deep enough to strike the heart.”

I struggled to slowly move my right hand to the top of my left breast. I saw that my fingers were covered in blue blood. My blood. It took a great effort to rasp out a few words.

“Heart. Here. Not. Center.”

“Figures,” she said.

Beth moved to finish John Carter with a thrust under his left armpit, but again he dodged her and she merely left him with a shallow cut to his upper arm. Two of his Dothraki bloodriders had re-mounted and swiftly approached as though they intended to ride her down. She backed away from John Carter to stand over Lyra and await their charge. John Carter called to the Dothraki and they pulled up; they helped him onto his horse and the three men slowly rode away together. I could see a sheet of red blood covering most of my husband’s upper body.

The remaining three Dothraki leapt from their horses to confront Beth on foot, spreading out to attack from her front and both flanks. Jory picked up Lyra’s sword Longclaw and rushed to help her sister Beth, ramming the sword deeply into the side of the Dothraki closest to her as she ducked under the swing of his odd blade. The dying man’s scream distracted his two friends, and Beth took advantage to knock away the blade of the man in the center and plunge her own sword into his heart.

The lone remaining Dothraki attacked, and Beth parried his first blows. He countered with a powerful two-handed swing that he believed she could not block, but she threw herself to the ground beneath it and rose with a two-handed upward swing of her own that took him in the groin and opened his body to his ribcage. His internal organs began to spill out of his body as he gave a sharp keening sound, fell forward and died.

“Coward!” Beth screamed at John Carter’s retreating form. “Stand and fight me, you fucking coward!”

She dropped her sword and knelt next to Lyra.

“Tansy!” she screamed again. “I need you!”

My adoptive sister Lyra arched her back and screamed, a horrific primal sound torn from the depths of her body. With her thoughts connected to mine, I felt her pain and I screamed in unison with her. I saw her hand claw at the dirt and felt mine do the same. She still lived, but I could not tell if she had suffered a fatal wound.

“Go,” Melly told Tansy. “I’ll fix this one.”

“Don’t,” Dacey hissed. “You go. Let this bitch die.”

“Shut your gods-damned mouth and do as I say,” Melly told her. “Hold her still as you can.”

Dacey shifted to hold my shoulders on her knees as she knelt behind me. Our healer poured raw alcohol over the wound. I screamed again as it burned and I writhed in renewed agony.

“Hold the edges closed,” Melly told Dacey, “like this.”

“Why bother?” Dacey asked, but she did as Melly directed. “She got my sister killed, and got what she deserved.”

Melly threaded a needle through my flesh as she cursed Dacey.

“I can’t fix what’s wrong in your twisted head,” she said. “She just tried to die for you. For all of us. But she’s not dying on my watch.”

At some point Jory had joined us and knelt across from Melly.

“Stay here,” Melly told Jory, as she tied off the stitches. “Don’t leave her alone with this raving idiot.”

Melly applied some foul-smelling salve to the wound, then scooped up her instruments and dashed over to where Lyra still screamed in pain.

“Lyra,” I rasped out to Jory, who held my hand and stroked my face gently.

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice breaking. “It’s bad. It’s really, really bad.”

Tears fell down Jory’s face.

“Dejah, I’m so sorry. I would die in your place. Or hers.”

“Not. Going. Die.” I rasped out.

Jory kissed my forehead.

“I love you, sister,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry, Dejah,” Dacey said, now crying as well. “I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re my sister and I love you, too. I should have said so before.”

“Not. Going. Die.” I repeated. Every breath felt like I pulled clouds of tiny shards of broken glass into my lungs.

“Dejah,” Jory said. “He stabbed you in the heart. You’re bleeding out.”

“Not. Heart.”

“She told Melly her heart was over to the side,” Dacey explained. “Under her left tit.”

Tansy returned from helping Melly treat Lyra’s wound.

“The cut went deep,” she said. “But Melly cleaned and closed it. She’s lost a lot of blood. How’s Dejah?”

“About the same,” Jory said. “She seems to know we’re here and tries to speak.”

“Lyra doesn’t,” Tansy said. “She screams but without words.”

“What do we do now?” Dacey asked.

“Beth’s going back to the camp to see if there’s a way to move one of the wagons left there over to this side of the river. If not, we’re going to have to carry them back and across the wall.”

“We’re not staying in the camp?”

“Oh hells no. We’ve no way of knowing when the Dothraki might return. We have to move.”

“We can make a litter,” Jory said, “and drag Dejah on it, at least to the wall. I think we can carry Lyra.

“Dacey,” she said to her sister, “you need to be with us. Completely with us. Can you do that?”

“I’m over it,” the eldest Mormont said. “I’ll pull my weight now.”

I think I slipped out of consciousness for a time; a farm cart appeared from somewhere and my sisters lifted me onto the straw inside amid a great deal of cursing. I felt them deposit Lyra next to me; she seemed warm and I could feel the overwhelming pain in her mind. I hoped she would live. I desperately hoped she would live.

* * *

I had no idea where they planned to take us. I cannot say that I cared particularly; at that moment I tried to tamp down the terrifying thought that Lyra had given her life in my defense. I wished that John Carter had remembered where a Barsoomian woman’s heart lay and run his sword through mine. Tansy, Beth and Jory took turns walking or riding beside the draft horses and riding with me in the cart, while Dacey and Melly rode alongside us, keeping close watch on our wounds for infection and fever.

Our little caravan slowly moved along narrow back roads, barely more than trails. The cart rode poorly enough on a smooth road; each of the many rocks or roots the wheels struck on these trails shook me and sent pangs of agony outward from my chest.

My sisters had placed Lyra directly alongside me, and I held her left hand in both of mine even when I slipped into an unconscious state. I had little idea of our direction or purpose; at times I received flashes of thought from my sisters, always indicating concern for us all, and for Lyra and I in particular.

I think we travelled for days but I am not sure. At least three times armed men attempted to stop our procession. Each time Beth Cassel killed them all.

* * *

The world around me had stopped moving and I lay on a bed of hay with Beth curled up sleeping next to me on one side and Lyra on the other. I could see Tansy’s back as she tended a fire inside a rock fireplace; we were in a cave or stone-walled room with a great deal of smoke in the air.

“Sister,” I croaked.

Beth stirred and opened her eyes.

“Lyra,” I croaked again.

“She’s hurt badly,” Beth said softly. “But she lives. Melly thinks she’ll recover.”

“Dacey,” I rasped.

“Outside,” she whispered. “Keeping watch.”

“Jory.”

“Outside, keeping watch on Dacey.”

“Melly.”

“Sleeping on the other side of the chamber.”

I turned to look at Lyra, and carefully stroked the side of her face. She did not stir, and her skin seemed overly warm.

“Here.”

“It’s an abandoned holdfast,” Beth said. “A storage place for winter supplies, where people ride out the worst of the season, sometimes for years. It’s been thoroughly looted but we still have food we took from the Faith Militant camp.”

“Safe with you,” I croaked again.

She smiled and kissed me on the cheek. “Safe with you, too.”

Tansy brought me a cup of water and told me to drink it slowly. It hurt to drink. It hurt to lie still, and it hurt even more to move.

“Boiled?”

It also hurt to speak.

“Of course we boiled the water.” Tansy smiled. “Just like you taught us.”

“Where?”

“The wooded hills behind the Ruby Ford,” Tansy said. “Probably not far from the Brotherhood’s old encampment. We’ve seen no one, but we can’t stay here much longer.”

“Long?”

“How long? Six days since your . . . injury. Jory speared a few fish in the stream outside, and we loaded the wagon with as much food from the camp as we could. You’ve come around a few times, enough for us to shove some water and mashed potatoes or boiled oats into you, but this is the first time you’ve spoken. No one seems to be looking for us, but we stayed hidden just to be sure.”

“Good.”

“Rest now. Your wound seems to be healing cleanly.”

“Love.”

“We love you too, Dejah. Sleep.”

I slept, and awoke some time later to a ravenous hunger. Dacey and Tansy were ready, with potatoes roasted in the fire and strips of fried bacon. I love bacon, but at that moment I did not care.

“Lyra?” I asked, filled with fear. I turned to my adoptive sister, who still lay alongside me. She slept but did not stir.

“She still hasn’t come around,” Dacey said. “I didn’t think she’d live, but she has.”

My own mind was too unfocused read her thoughts, but I knew that she blamed me.

“I did not wish for her to fight him.”

I spoke in a loud, raspy whisper. It still hurt, but I could form full sentences now.

“She made that choice,” Dacey said, “because she loves you.”

“You hate me now.”

“No,” she said, smiling and shaking her head. “Oh, I did, for a little while. I put my life on the line for Robb Stark with far less reason. I can’t very well blame Lyra. She loves you.”

“Another night’s rest,” Melly said, coming over to check the dressing on my wound, “and you can probably stand. You’ve healed faster than any woman has a right to.”

“I believe that my people recover faster than yours.”

“Must be that blue blood,” she said. “But your body seems to think you’re hurt even worse. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you took two sword-thrusts. And the other was right here.”

She rubbed two fingers across the top of my left breast, directly over my heart.

“Anything more I need to know, past the blue blood?”

“Tell her,” Dacey said, taking my hand in hers. “She’s seen your blood and seen you naked.”

“My thoughts and Lyra’s are linked together,” I said. “What she feels, I feel. What I feel, she feels.”

“I thought those other two were your lovers.”

I said nothing, wondering how to answer. I looked away from Melly to softly touch Lyra’s face.

“Go ahead,” Melly said. “You knew about Meg and me.”

“You were right,” I said. “I share sex with both Tansy and Beth, but not Lyra. Lyra is my sister, not my lover. But my thoughts are intertwined with hers, as they are with no other in this world. It is an ability of my people.”

“Who are not people like us.”

“No, we are not.”

She nodded.

“Explains a lot,” she said. “About you, about your wound, about hers.”

“Hers?”

“It’s a bad wound, no doubt,” she said, lifting the bandage over Lyra’s breast so I could see. “But it didn’t touch her heart nor lungs, not so far as I can reckon. We got right on it and kept it clean, no festering at all. She should have been up before you. Instead she’s down like she’s the one took the sword twixt her tits, not you.”

“She thinks John Carter stabbed her in the heart?”

“Hells if I know,” Melly said. “But maybe her body thinks so. You’re the genius from . . . wherever. You tell me.”

“She has had fever?”

“Yes she did,” Melly nodded. “It broke last night. She should be speaking by now. We can give her wine and water with honey in it, but she needs to come fully awake and eat.”

“I cannot yet connect to others’ thoughts,” I said. “As soon as I can, I will enter Lyra’s mind and convince her that she is well, or will be well.”

“You’ve done this before?” Dacey asked.

“No,” I said. “I do not know that it is possible for one without special training, like me. But I would rather die than live without her, and I do not intend to die for a very long time.”

I slept for a short while, until Tansy and Beth brought me food. I still felt very sore, but could now sit up and talk with my sisters. I leaned on the stone wall of the chamber while Tansy and Beth sat at the edge of the straw pallet. Each reached out every few moments to caress my face, shoulders or hair.

“You’ve decided to live?” Tansy asked.

“I suppose that I have. Why do you ask that?”

“You talk in your sleep,” she said. “You always have.”

“How could he have forgotten me?”

“You explained it a long time ago. He forgets his past. He must have forgotten his stay on your world, and thinks Daenerys really was his wife.”

“So I did kill John Carter’s wife.”

“Well, yes.”

“He is not the John Carter I once loved.”

Though he had looked exactly the same as the man I had married and loved, he seemed far angrier and violent. Or perhaps I had never wished to see the truth behind his claims of honor, had overlooked the frenzied slaughter of enemies he had undertaken in the name of my city and my grandfather. And in my name.

“No,” Tansy agreed. “He wanted you dead. And he probably thinks he killed you. I’d consider that a marriage-ending event.”

I had thought our love immune to any obstacle, so powerful that nothing could ever drive it away. Clearly, I had been wrong.

“Yes,” I said. “He tried to kill my sister. I will never forgive what he did to Lyra. And he tried to kill me.”

I touched the rough and ugly scar between my breasts that proved it. It was still damp. My body was no longer perfect; I was no longer beautiful. That loss hurt me deeply, and I in turn felt shame over my shallowness, when my beautiful sister lay alongside me still unable to regain consciousness.

“Now we both have scars there,” Tansy smiled. “All three of us.”

“The one on my heart is much worse.”

“I know, sweetling. I’d make it better if I could.”

Beth Cassel touched the center of her own chest, covered by a black Night’s Watch tunic. She still kept the small leather bag with her “slave price” dangling there.

“I think I’m just as happy with smooth skin there.”

“And freckles,” I said.

“Those, too.”

“You tried very hard to die for me,” I said. I stroked her shoulder. “You easily could have.”

“And I’d do so gladly,” she said. “But that wasn’t really on my mind. I thought he’d killed you. I know that your heart’s on the left, but I was behind you and couldn’t see where the sword struck. I couldn’t feel your thoughts and I was sure you were dead. After that, I only wanted to kill John Carter.”

“You fought the self-proclaimed greatest swordsman on two worlds,” I said. “Alone. He never touched you, and you almost killed him.”

“I’m not very happy with the ‘almost’ part.”

“I’m just relieved that you came out unhurt,” Tansy said. “I couldn’t have lost all three of you.”

“I promised I would never leave you,” I said. “I know that you would never forget me, would never hurt me.”

I looked over at Lyra, and pushed a strand of hair away from her face.

“When I am fully healed,” I said, “I will divorce John Carter. And then Beth Cassel and I will kill him.”

* * *

With the new dawn it was time for me to start stretching out my somewhat healed body. I still had a great deal of soreness across my chest and felt weak from long days of doing nothing. I would not be very good in a fight for a long time to come. With Jory’s help I finally rose from the now-filthy straw pallet, and we went outside into the morning sunlight. It hurt my eyes, and I needed some moments to adjust to its brightness.

The holdfast had no bathhouse, but did have a cistern to store water and a stone trough apparently meant for horses. My sisters had been using it for bathing, and I gingerly climbed in to wash myself in the bracingly cold water. Beth joined Jory to assist me, and soon I felt much better. I washed my hair and for the first time since before the fight with John Carter cleaned my teeth, removing the foul tastes from my mouth.

After drying I dressed in a set of black leggings and tunic, and sat on a stone bench to rest. Jory returned to the chamber, and with no one watching us Beth carefully straddled my lap and faced me. She kept her weight on her knees.

“Are you well yet?” she asked. “Your mind, I mean.”

I looked into her eyes, and reached for her thoughts. I entered them easily, and felt tendrils of her consciousness within my mind. I had feared the loss of this connection more than my own death. I put my hands on the sides of her face and kissed her, harder than I had intended.

“I love you,” I said.

“I know,” she answered, peeling off her tunic. “Kiss me again.”

And so I did, on her lips and on the hard, pink nipple of each perfect, freckled breast. I felt very happy to be alive.

“I cannot do more,” I whispered. “I am still very sore.”

“You’ll get better,” she said. “I’m looking forward already.”

She kissed me again, and then shrugged back into her black tunic.

When we returned to the chamber, I saw that Tansy and Melly had moved Lyra to a fresh straw pallet.

“You ready to try that mind thing?” Melly asked. I nodded. “You need help, or you need us out of your way?”

“I do not know,” I said. “I can enter Beth’s thoughts, and she is used to connecting with both Lyra and I. Perhaps she should join us.”

Slowly and carefully, I knelt on the straw next to Lyra, with Beth at my side. I kept my left arm around her shoulders for balance while she snaked her right arm about my waist, and I reached first for her thoughts, then Lyra’s.

Connecting with my adoptive sister’s consciousness brought me a great feeling of joy, despite her grievous injury. I knew that Beth felt it as well. I had not attempted psychic healing before, but from my studies I understood the principles. One did not try to convince the patient of anything, but simply communed with them until their subconscious accepted the truth.

I had little sense of time; Tansy later told me that we remained kneeling silently alongside Lyra for what she guessed to be more than two of their hours. It was mid-morning when I felt Lyra enter a wakening state, and I opened my eyes just in time to see her beautiful brown-and-golden eyes flutter open as well.

“I love you,” I said.

“I know,” she answered in a rough whisper. “And I’m hungry.”

* * *

Melly took over care of Lyra, and I took a seat at the chamber’s large wooden table with the rest of my sisters. I was also very hungry, and ate a great deal while I listened to my sisters.

“We’re going to Duskendale,” Tansy said, looking at Dacey, Beth and Jory.

“Not Maidenpool?” Dacey asked her.

“Maidenpool has a wall, gates and guards,” Tansy said. “Duskendale has none of those, just a fort where its craven lord hides from pirates. We can find a ship without having to pass through a checkpoint.”

“No ship,” I said. “I must face John Carter.”

“You and Lyra nearly died the last time we tried that,” Beth said.

“And you would have,” Dacey added, “all of us would have, without Beth. It’s not safe for us here.”

“You have discussed this,” I said.

“Yes,” Tansy said. “We are all agreed. We’re leaving Westeros, at least for a time.”

My sisters all nodded their heads.

“What of Bear Island?”

“He knows we’re not there,” Beth said. “And he thinks you’re dead. I’m the one with the price on her head now.”

“You know this?”

“It’s not hard to figure out. A woman carved him up like a festival goose, in front of his men. No man would forgive that.”

Jory reached for my hand.

“If we stay here, I’ll have to fight,” she said. “Beth can’t protect all six of us alone. You, Lyra and Dacey are too weak, and Tansy doesn’t know what to do with a blade. Is that what you want?”

“You know it is not. You are manipulating my love for you.”

“Of course I am,” she smiled. “Whatever it takes to protect my big sister.”

I caught a flash of resentment from Dacey, immediately followed by shame.

“Where will we go?” I asked.

“Where every Westerosi exile goes,” Tansy said. “The Free Cities. Eight large cities, each larger than any in Westeros, scattered along the opposite side of the Narrow Sea.”

“You have been there?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t believe any of us have, except Beth and that, well . . .”

“I was a slave in Tyrosh,” Beth said. “I speak their language, but I’d prefer not to go back. I’m terrified of returning there, truth be told.”

“Then we’re not going to Tyrosh,” Tansy said.

“Tycho is from Braavos,” I said. “Is it one of the cities?”

“It is,” Tansy confirmed. “But I think our best choice is to just take the first ship we can find to any of the cities. Except Tyrosh.”

“I fear such a voyage,” I said.

“I know you do,” Tansy said. “We didn’t come to this conclusion lightly. We’re hard to miss: a pack of six women each as tall as a pine tree, most of them toting swords, and the most wanted of them all has copper skin and red eyes. If we stay, John Carter will hear of it. Let him think you dead.”

“What of Maege? She loves us. She almost did not survive the loss of Dacey. She will not endure the loss of all of us.”

“I’m going back to the island,” Melly said, taking a seat alongside me. “I’ll tell the lady all what’s happened.”

“It is a long and perilous journey. If you do not arrive, she will think us dead.”

“Glad you put that worry ahead of my safety,” she said, then stopped me as I tried to apologize. “No, I understood what you meant. It’s the sort of risk we all take every day.”

“Do we have enough money?” I asked.

“We still have almost all of Bronn’s loot,” Tansy said. “And Lyra brought some from the Twins.”

“I took a little,” Beth added, “from the men we met on the road,”

Since we had money and horses, I wished to head toward King’s Landing and kill John Carter. The injuries to Lyra enraged me almost as much as they did Beth Cassel, and I now saw that he would not be turned away from the path of conquest and destruction. He would make himself Warlord of Westeros no matter what the price in other people’s blood. My mistress and I would kill him before his terror spilled any more Mormont blood.

“I also took John Carter’s sword,” my mistress went on. “One of them, anyway. He had another, larger one he never drew. He dropped this one when I stabbed him in the wrist. I was trying to cut his hand off.”

“It is the way of Barsoom,” I said. “I am unusual in using but one blade; most wield both short- and long-sword. Is this blade valuable?”

“I should think so,” she said. “It’s another Valyrian blade.”

“What do you wish to do with it?”

“I was waiting for you to tell me.”

“You took it as spoil of battle,” I said. “Under my people’s laws, it is up to you to dispose of it as you will. Keep it, sell it, gift it.”

“Then I wish to gift it to Jory,” Beth said. “She rushed in to help me against John Carter’s blood riders. That was true courage. True stupidity, but also true courage.”

“I’m not afraid to fight,” my little sister said. “But I’m not very good at it.”

“You’re already better with a sword than most,” Beth said. “It’s a fine sword, actually slightly smaller than mine so it should suit you. And Bronn the sellsword was right. A Valyrian blade does a great deal to overcome a woman’s lesser strength.”

“You blocked John Carter’s strike,” Jory said. “He’s as strong as Dejah.”

“No, he parried mine, with far less force than a strike,” Beth said. “Even so, my arms hurt for three days after. Let me do this. Accept the sword.”

“All right,” Jory said. “As long you don’t expect great deeds from me.”

I did not know how I felt about Jory taking such a blade. It might help keep her safe, were she forced to fight again, but might tempt her to join her fighting sisters in battle. I did not wish this. Yet as formidable as Beth Cassel had become, the three Dothraki she had faced had been experienced, cold-minded killers. Had Jory not intervened, Beth could well have been killed along with the rest of us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next episode, Dejah gazes upon the vast sea.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris faces the death of a sister.

Chapter Nineteen

As soon as Melly declared that Lyra could sit a horse, we abandoned the holdfast and set out for Duskendale. We still had some food, though it dwindled rapidly, and we would need more soon.

I felt as though I could ride, but Tansy insisted that she ride with me and I did enjoy the comfort of her body pressed against my back. Jory rode behind Lyra to steady her as well. Beth led our little procession, with Tansy and I right behind her so I could scan ahead telepathically, followed by Melly and Dacey with Lyra and Jory bringing up the tail end. We left the wagon at the holdfast, as we had little food left and two of our packhorses easily carried it.

“I was so worried for you,” Tansy whispered, and she kissed me under my right ear. I was very sensitive there, and thrilled to the sensation. “When you fell, it felt like I died, too.”

“Then I am glad to be alive,” I said. “I could not bear for harm to come to you.”

“I know,” she said. “Or to Jory either.”

“I am that obvious?”

“You are to me,” she said, still whispering. “You want to protect her innocence.”

“And her life.”

“I saw her fight in the Twins,” Tansy continued. “She can handle herself.”

I knew she had bloodied her sword there, but still had never asked what had happened. Obviously, I did not wish to know, and yet again I failed to ask.

“She is the little sister I never knew that I needed,” I said instead.

“I feel the same way,” Tansy said. “So I have an idea. I think we should send Dacey and Jory back with Melly. Dacey needs to be home, she needs the island to help heal her soul, and I don’t know that Melly can handle her on her own.”

“You spent many days with them while I was injured.”

“That’s right,” Tansy said. “And I watched them all. Especially Dacey. I think she’ll be better with time, but right now we can’t trust her not to say or do something insane.”

“I trust your judgement.”

“Thank you,” my sister said. “They can take ship to White Harbor, seat of the Manderlys. Jory knows Ser Wylis and Ser Marlon. Lord Wyman will give her an escort all the way to Deepwood.”

“Which they might not grant to Melly.”

“Not on her own,” Tansy agreed. “She’s lowborn. If she had Dacey they might, but there’s no telling what lunatic nonsense Dacey might tell them.”

“She is only damaged,” I said. “She is not insane. She simply handles stress poorly.”

“Could have fooled me,” Tansy said. “I like her. I’m starting to love her as our sister. But I don’t trust her.”

“She is our sister,” I said. “No less than Lyra or Jory. We must make her well.”

“And that happens best on Bear Island. In her home, with her mother.”

“I agree,” I said.  “We shall speak first to Jory, and then to all of our sisters.”

“You’re getting smarter about these things.”

“I was a princess once,” I said. “I learned many things.”

“You’re my princess now,” she said, cupping my breasts in her hands, as the horse needed no guidance from the reins. I drew in my breath.

“Does that hurt?”

“I am still very sore,” I said. “But I like it when you touch me.”

“I thought you and Beth . . .”

“I kissed her lips and her breasts, but she did not touch me. I very much wanted her to do so.”

“Then it’s a good thing you have two tits,” she whispered, moving her hands back to my waist. “I’ll share, but I won’t stand in line.”

“I am eager for your touch, and hers.”

“I can tell.”

* * *

We spent the night under some trees a distance away from the narrow cart-track we followed. Normally I did not mind sleeping on the ground, but I slept poorly thanks to the hard lumps underneath me and my anxiety over Lyra’s condition.

Slowly, however, I could tell that my body improved. I regained more movement in my arms, even if I still lacked much strength. The bouts of intense pain became far more bearable. At times, however, I still had trouble discerning my own physical pain from that I received through my mental connection to my adoptive sister.

We finally reached the King’s Road late one afternoon, and camped out of sight among the trees. We sat about in a small clearing and ate cold food to avoid giving a smoky signal to any watchers nearby.

“Do we know where we’re going?” Dacey asked.

“Back to the ford,” Tansy said. “We’re going to have to cross the river to get to Duskendale.”

“Then shouldn’t we try Maidenpool, walls and all?”

“We’d need to cross the river to get there, too,” Tansy said. “Saltpans is on this side, but it was burned to the ground by the Lannisters, or somebody.”

“What if the Dothraki are in Duskendale?” Dacey continued. “Or just wandering around in our path?”

“Then we die,” Melly said. “Pretty horribly, especially you pretty girls.” She looked at Tansy. “Where else can we go?”

“We can try Saltpans,” Tansy said. “And try to find a ship there to take us to Gulltown.”

“Gulltown?” I asked.

“The major port to the Vale,” Beth said. “Ships from Essos trade there.”

Jory looked at her.

“What?” Beth asked. “We had lessons in Winterfell and had to recite all the names of the great houses and all the chief facts about the seven kingdoms.”

“How far is Gulltown if we have to ride?” Jory asked. Beth shrugged.

“I’d guess about as far as Greywater Watch,” Tansy said. “We can ride there, but I’d rather take ship and avoid the Dothraki.”

“How did the Dothraki arrive here?” I asked. “They are from the Eastern Continent, are they not?”

“By ship,” Dacey said. “Many, many ships. Ships that might still be out there.”

Tansy sighed.

“I didn’t think this through very well.”

“Tansy,” Jory said, “you were worried about Dejah. And Lyra. All of us were.”

Lyra, lying on the ground with her head in my lap, stirred and slowly sat up.

“Gulltown’s still the best choice,” she said. “The way north is going to be boiling with Freys. We can’t run and we can’t fight.”

“All right,” Tansy said. “At Gulltown, we’ll book passage for Melly, Dacey and Jory to White Harbor, and the rest of us to Essos.”

“No,” Dacey said.

“You need to be home,” Tansy answered. “You need to get well.”

“So does Dejah,” Dacey said. “So does Lyra. They can’t sit a horse without someone minding them. They can’t lift a sword, much less fight with one. They won’t be whole for a very long time. They should go home with us. They belong in Mormont Keep.”

“Even Dejah?” Beth asked, in a flat voice. “And Tansy?”

“I know I’ve said some horrible things,” Dacey said. “And I’ll probably say more. That doesn’t mean I believe them, that those hateful words show who I really am. Your nightmares stay inside you, burn you, tear at you. Leave you weeping or screaming in your sleep. Mine burst out when I can least control them.”

“I love you, Dacey,” Beth said. “I have since we were children. But I don’t know that I can trust you.”

“I don’t blame you,” Dacey answered. “I’m not the woman I was. I want to be her again. But I’m right in this thing. We belong on Bear Island. All of us. That includes you, Dejah and Tansy.”

Beth and Dacey glared at one another, while Lyra silently prompted me to end the confrontation.

“I want to go home,” I said. “I want to feel Maege’s arms around me, to lie in front of our fire and hear Tansy read to us.”

“It’s your home as much as mine,” Dacey said. “I want you home, too.”

“What about John Carter?” Beth asked. “Will he not attack Bear Island?”

“I don’t think so,” Dacey said. “I think he’ll challenge you or Dejah, or both of you, to another round of single combat.”

“You could be right,” I said. “But he still has one dragon left. That beast could devastate the island.”

“Which would happen whether you’re there or not,” she answered. “He wants to put his sword through your heart, and Beth’s, too. Personally, face-to-face, so he can feel you die with his mind power. Is that not how you’ve described him?”

She was right. Perhaps I wanted her to be right, and so I agreed with the course that fulfilled my wishes.

“Beth,” I said. “I want to go home.”

She remained unconvinced, and looked at Tansy.

“I want to go home, too,” Tansy said. “If Dejah thinks it safe, we should.”

Tansy looked at our other sisters.

“Jory? Lyra?”

“Home,” Lyra said. “I don’t want to die in some strange Southron place.”

She settled back into my arms. I had never known her to be so passive; I kissed her forehead and silently re-affirmed my love for her. My sister’s attitude troubled me; I loved Lyra as intensely as I had ever loved anyone.

“You’re not going to die,” Jory told Lyra. “But we should go home.”

“Since no one’s asking me,” Melly said, “we should all head back together, so’s I can watch over these two wounded princesses and the crazy one, too.”

“All right,” Beth said. “You knew all along I’d never go against Dejah’s wishes. Let’s ride for Saltpans and try to sail to Gulltown, and ride there if we can’t take ship. From there it’s on to White Harbor, and home.”

“If we can find a raven in Gulltown,” Jory said, “we could ask Lord Manderly to send a fast ship for us. He would not deny us.”

“Find!” Tansy’s raven screeched from his perch on her knee. “Find! Find!”

“You can find us a raven?” she asked the bird. “A messenger raven?”

“Find!” he confirmed. He launched himself into the air and flapped away.

“Do we have anything to write with?” Jory asked. “Or on?”

“I still have John Carter’s message,” Beth said. “The one challenging Dejah to single combat.”

“Give it here,” Melly said. “I’ll scrape it clean. Raven left a nice feather behind, and I still have a jar of black walnut juice.”

* * *

With Tansy still helping me sit my horse, we rode beside Beth at the head of our group. Dacey joined us on the opposite side of my mistress.

“So I’ve been wondering something,” she began. “It feels strange to ask it aloud, but having someone among us who reads minds, somehow makes it easier to spill secrets.”

“I try not to spy on my sisters,” I said. “But I do often receive thoughts by accident.”

“You know what I’m going to say next?”

“No,” I answered. “It remains a mystery.”

“Then I’ll just blurt it right out,” Dacey said. “I was raped. Over and over. So now that’s over and . . . will I ever want a man inside me again? Is this what made you three lay with women?”

Dacey’s bluntness surprised my sisters, but they took her question seriously.

“I don’t think I’ll ever have interest in sex with a man,” Beth said. “They used me. I hated it, and I hated them for it. I learned not to hate all men for what a few did, but having sex with them is a line I’m not ready to cross. Just the thought of a cock entering . . . no. Just no.”

“Is that why you prefer women?” Dacey asked.

“Not really,” Beth said. “I’m still nervous around men, but I knew I liked women before anything . . . happened. Even so, I don’t think I’d want to lay with anyone but Dejah or Tansy.”

“What about you two?” Dacey turned to Tansy and I.

“I don’t really know,” Tansy said. “When I was whoring, I was paid to service women. Not often, but sometimes. More often two women and one man, who was the one paying, or two women while the man watched. He paid for that, too. I didn’t mind it. Or maybe I should say I didn’t hate it any more than fucking a man for pay.

“I’ve been raped. It’s the whore’s job hazard. I don’t think it changed my mind.”

“And now?”

“I can’t say I’ve given up men,” Tansy said. “I’ve just found two women I like better.”

“And you, Dejah,” Dacey looked at me. “Had you tried it? Before Tansy?”

“In my own land, many times. Here, as Tansy has told you, she and I made love to Cersei before I killed her.”

“Did you like it?”

“With Cersei? No. She was very beautiful but possessed of an ugly soul. I am glad that I killed her. And I learned that Tansy knows how to kiss. I felt it in my toes. I liked that part.”

Tansy snorted.

“Show her your tongue.”

The peoples of Barsoom can extend their tongue when aroused sexually. I had to concentrate to do so in a non-aroused state.

“That’s . . . impressive,” Dacey said. “And blue. You used it on Cersei?”

“No, Tansy took care of her.”

“And on John Carter?”

I hesitated, but I had to learn to speak of my husband, soon to become my former husband, without becoming overly emotional.

“I’ve done it again,” Dacey said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, I think it is good for me to speak of these things,” I said. “He enjoyed my tongue on his sex organ, and very much enjoyed placing his sex organ between my breasts.”

“Seems like they all like that,” Dacey said, idly touching hers.

“But my people and yours do not fit together for actual intercourse.”

Another thought struck me.

“Perhaps this is why he preferred Daenerys Targaryen. He could place his organ inside her for normal sex in the way of his people and yours. In her memories, she received orgasm from him. He could not do that with me.”

“Don’t talk that way.” I had never heard Beth snap at me before. “Nothing that happened with Carter is your fault. I’m glad you cut that slut’s head off. So Carter enjoyed you. Did you enjoy him?”

“Not as much as he enjoyed my tongue and my breasts.”

“Did he even try?” Beth asked. She retained a great hatred for my husband.

“A few times, but usually I gave him pleasure.”

“So you’d never had an orgasm before?” Dacey asked. “Before Tansy?”

Many times I had made love to Thuvia of Ptarth on Barsoom, my sister of the heart. Together we had done the same with John Carter. But I was not of the same world as my sisters here.

“Dejah?”

“I am sorry. Sometimes I become lost in my thoughts.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“I first felt Cersei receive orgasm. I later found I could receive it myself, with Tansy and then with Beth. It was possibly the finest moment of my life.”

“You know the Faith of the Seven believe there is no orgasm,” Dacey said, “that it’s simply demons taking hold of a woman. And so women should never enjoy sex.”

“Tansy has told me this.”

I had written several papers on this very topic, neatly stacked with many others in my office in the Mormont Keep barracks. If I never made it back to Barsoom, some historian of the far future would find them very puzzling.

“Why are you asking all this?” Beth asked Dacey.

“I kissed Dejah right after I met her,” she answered. “But I was only trying to confuse her. It wasn’t a sisterly act, a friendly act, and I’m sorry. But now I’m wondering if I wouldn’t be happier laying with women.”

“You never have?” Beth asked.

“No. Had my chances, but never followed through. After what happened to me, maybe that’s my future.”

“I don’t think it works that way,” Beth said. “I think you’re born with it. With your choice, I mean. Which I suppose means it’s not a choice.”

“I understood what you meant,” Dacey said. “Those were deeply personal questions. Thank you for answering them.”

“We’re sisters,” Tansy said. “That means we that share.”

“Our bodies also?” Dacey asked.

“Dacey,” Tansy said. “You’ve just become my sister. Do you really think it a good idea that we become lovers, too?”

“No,” she said. “I just want what you have. The closeness.”

She spoke the truth.

* * *

I continued to feel very sore and very weak, and though I believed my sisters to be overly cautious in assisting me as we rode I still had a long recovery to endure. Lyra seemed no better, and each evening as my sisters prepared our camp and our evening meal I curled up alongside her under our sleeping furs and held her close.

We rarely spoke aloud, and then only in whispers. Instead we shared our thoughts; I knew she did not believe that she would recover but held on to life out of love for me and fear that I would die as well. I did not share this with Melly or our sisters, nor did Lyra.

On the fourth night after our departure from the holdfast, Beth slipped under the furs behind me and pressed tightly against my back. I felt her reaching for my thoughts, and entered her mind. She had felt Lyra’s despair, and wished to be sure that I did not share it.

“Don’t let her go,” she whispered into my ear. “How bad is it?”

Lyra opened her eyes and met Beth’s.

“The pain,” she said in a low, raspy voice. “I want it to end.”

Though Lyra was almost exactly my size and body type, she seemed almost a hatchling as she carefully rested her head on my shoulder. She shuddered slightly from the pain of her wounds, both that inflicted by John Carter and that she had felt when his sword entered my chest.

“I will share the pain,” I said, softly. “We will endure it together.”

Beth moved the Lyra’s other side and pressed against her.

“The three of us are one,” she whispered. I could feel her body stiffen as she felt Lyra’s pain through our linked minds; my sisters could not share their thoughts directly. She reached across Lyra to take my hand and we slept fitfully in that position until Jory roused Beth some hours later and took her place.

In the morning, Lyra remained in pain. My fear for her grew, as did my determination to kill John Carter. Melly came and checked our wounds, and pronounced herself satisfied with their healing.

“There’s no festering that I can see,” she said, cleaning Lyra’s scar. “Healthy pink skin, no sign of pus, no redness shooting out from the cut. I’d expect her to be weak, but not like this. What do you see in her mind?”

“Pain,” I said. “From both this wound, and the one she did not suffer between her breasts.”

Melly ran her fingers along my sister’s breastbone. Lyra jerked away from her touch.

“No sign of injury at all,” Melly said. “She’s perfectly healthy here. And you can see how she jumps.”

I had not trained as a physician, but like any science student I had studied anatomy and the basics of medicine. I knew that Melly, despite her lack of formal education, was likely correct. I had feared that either Lyra or I had suffered internal injuries that the closing of our wounds would not heal, but neither of us showed any other symptoms. Lyra’s sensitivity at the site of my injury implied that the cause of her pain lay within her thoughts.

Melly put her hands on Lyra’s abdomen and pressed.

“Hurts?”

“No,” Lyra said. “Chest. Like I’ve been run through.”

“Want to vomit?”

“No.”

Now Melly ran her hands over my sister’s bare skin: her upper arms, breasts, chest and neck.

“Nothing,” she said. “No extra sweat, slightly warm just like she should be. I don’t think she’s bleeding inside.”

“I agree,” I said. The symptoms for which she searched matched my knowledge of my own people’s anatomy.

“A maester would bleed her,” Jory said.

“Yes,” Melly agreed, “that’s ’cause maesters are idiots. You learn to heal by healing, not reading about it in some tower. Bleeding just makes a person weaker. Probably the same for blue blood.”

She glanced at me. I nodded.

“What do you suggest then?” I asked her.

She sighed, and stared off into the distance.

“More of that mind thing’s all I can say,” she finally said. “It was a clean wound. We treated it right. She should be better. She’s not.”

We ate some bacon and boiled oats, and Jory helped Lyra clean herself after voiding her waste. Beth and Tansy brought up a horse and I mounted. I felt stronger now.

“Hand Lyra up to me.”

“Dejah, maybe she should . . .” Tansy began.

“I want her with me,” I said, more harshly than I had intended.

“She needs me with her,” I continued, trying to sound more gentle. “And I need to be with her.”

Together they positioned Lyra on the saddle in front of me; I slid back to sit behind the saddle. I left the direction to the horse, a large gelding from House Frey’s stables, and he picked his way carefully forward, jostling us as little as possible. I kept both of my arms wrapped around my adoptive sister.

My beautiful sister was dying, and it was my fault. Had I not foolishly insisted on facing John Carter alone, had I not foolishly tried to reason with a monster, had I not . . . the reasons were myriad, the results the same. I loved Lyra more than my own life, certainly more than I had ever loved my husband. And I could feel her slipping away with each step of our horse.

* * *

I kept my arms wrapped around Lyra. She leaned back against me and slept, an uneasy sleep filled with disturbing dreams that I could not follow.

“How is she?” Tansy asked.

“She is dying,” I said. “I am trying to meld my thoughts with hers, so her body will accept that it is healing, that the wound to my chest is not fatal. It is not working.”

“How are you?”

“I am in a great deal of pain, both my own and hers, and my own repeated through her thoughts again.”

“What will happen to you if . . . “

“I may die as well,” I said. “Or I may lose my sanity. I do not care.”

“I’m still here,” Tansy said. “Don’t leave me.”

“I have no wish to die,” I said, “or to leave you. But I cannot leave Lyra. She is in this condition because of me.”

“Because she loves you.”

“And I her.”

With our thoughts entwined together, I saw far more of Lyra’s memories and inner desires than would normally be the case. Usually, a telepath can only see someone’s surface thoughts; only a powerful and highly trained practitioner can extract information. Normally such deep contact is only performed by professionals, lest the participants’ identities become blurred.

We engage in a deeper connection while experiencing sex, and I had reached those levels with Lyra and Beth; my attempts to do so with Tansy had as yet only entered the surface of her mind. I would now attempt to meld my consciousness with Lyra’s in a far more intimate manner, so much so that our very individuality would be at stake should something go wrong.

I had no choice in the matter; I would do whatever necessary to protect Lyra including risking madness or the loss of self. In the process I learned more about my adoptive sister than she would ever have shared, or I would ever have sought to know – too much honesty does not make for a healthy relationship. We all need our secret thoughts.

She loved me, which re-assured me, but she also envied me. She felt inadequate when she compared my skills in battle to her own. She considered me more beautiful than she, though I found the opposite to be true. She also felt inadequate compared to our sister Alysane, who had borne two children while Lyra had none; learning that I had had many children bothered her as well. She and Tansy had bonded over the shared pain of their childlessness, conversations of which I had been unaware.

My lack of belief in any gods, now confirmed, troubled her as well. She went through the motions of her religion, but had had doubts as to whether anyone actually heard her prayers. Now those doubts had been shared with me, and another pillar of her self-identity fell away.

Lyra also feared that Maege expected her to replace Dacey, and that she could never compare to her older sister. Lyra believed herself only a minor character in her world, one barely worth a mention among a list of the inconsequential. That hurt me deeply, as she had become central to my reality.

She felt jealousy over my sexual relationships with Tansy and Beth, found the notion of sex with another woman intriguing and had fantasized kissing my breasts. Yet she feared rejection, by me and by her family, and dared not share her desires – nor was she sure these were anything more than idle curiosity.

She thought me at times silly and spoiled, and at other times she feared my anger. She believed me extremely intelligent, and thought I had wasted my intellectual gifts. It shamed her that she had felt jealousy over her mother’s love for me, for Tansy and for Beth. She at times resented Maege’s longing for Dacey, then thought dead, when she still had living daughters to love.

At the same time, she gained access to thoughts and feelings of mine I would never have shared. As a princess, I have a very strong ability to screen my thoughts both as a result of my breeding and from intensive training. Yet I did not dare employ this ability, lest Lyra interpret this as deception and refuse to believe that she would recover from her non-existent wound.

Lyra now knew of my sexual desire for her, though she had long suspected, of my fantasies surrounding that desire, and my jealousy of her male lovers. She knew of my own fears, of my shame over my privileged life in Helium and my fear that I would never truly be accepted by my new family. She knew that I blamed myself for losing John Carter’s love, and that I had killed many people with little remorse. And she now knew that when faced with a choice I had left Beth Cassel to die and placed my body between Lyra and the bolts loosed by Walder Frey’s crossbowmen.

She also learned that despite my spoken determination to kill John Carter, I remained unsure that I had the will to do so, and that I wondered how I might regain his love, even after what he had done to Lyra and to me. She also saw my deepest fear, that of being left alone when my sisters died of old age and I continued to live on, seemingly still young.

Apparently Lyra had never truly believed my tale of coming from another planet, and was mildly surprised to learn that Barsoom and Helium were indeed real places and that I was truly a princess – or that I at least believed these things. Yet she found no other traces of possible insanity or delusion, and the huge depth of my memories – many times the lifespan of one of her people – lent credence to my claims.

Would she wish to remain my sister after such intimate sharing? I feared that she would not, and of course she immediately knew of my fear, and in turn I knew that while she told me not to have such silly concerns, she was not actually sure. We would be sisters in name, because of my adoption by Maege, but she did not know if she would wish to share my company, and felt a deep shame that I was aware of her doubts.

Few relationships could withstand that sort of raw honesty. I knew it likely that she would be driven away from me by her knowledge of my flaws, or shame that I knew of hers. It would hurt me deeply, but I could not allow her to slip away into death. I would rather sacrifice my life to save Lyra than sacrifice our sisterhood, but I had not been presented with that choice. I would do whatever I must to save my adoptive sister, even if that drove her away from me.

The healing itself involved little real effort; I simply had to share my sense of self with her, to keep her from sliding into deadly despair. I could not convince her that she had not suffered a fatal wound. She would have to see this for herself, and take on my belief in this simple fact.

* * *

I did not recognize the small town called “Saltpans” until we passed its small fortress in the late afternoon of that same day. Its gates had been barred and several soldiers could be seen peering over the battlements. I asked our horse to move closer to Tansy’s.

“This is the place we passed while riding north with Arya Stark,” I said softly, unwilling to remind her of that journey but feeling it necessary. “This is where I threatened to return and kill all of the garrison.”

“They deserved it,” she said, “but just the one guard spoke, and he probably didn’t get a good look at you. Even if he did, he’ll never admit he was terrified of a lone woman.”

Saltpans remained badly damaged from whatever attack had taken place, but more repairs appeared to have been made since our last visit. The town turned out to have an actual operating inn, with one available room. Tansy took it; eager to accept the gold she offered, the innkeeper barely gave us a second look. Though the room proved somewhat dirty, we crowded into it. Melly insisted that Lyra, Beth and I take the bed; she and the rest of our sisters would sleep on the floor.

“What do we do now?” Dacey asked after the innkeeper’s daughter had brought us a large iron kettle filled with a very tasty stew, some dark bread and seven wooden bowls with wooden spoons. We all sat before the fire, even Lyra, and spooned up our food.

“Wait for the raven to find us,” Tansy said. “He will eventually. And we see if he found us a messenger bird. If he did, we write to the Manderlys and wait for a ship.”

“Is it safe to remain here?” I asked.

“We have to remain somewhere, first for the raven to find us, then for the ship.”

“I do not like this place,” I said. “I want to be home.”

“I know, sweetling,” she smiled. “We’ll get there, and we’ll be safe until then. We still have you to detect enemies, and Beth to fight them.”

“You need to understand, Tansy,” Beth said. “I’m not a shorter, paler Dejah. She’s incredibly strong and fast, and when she fights she’s completely focused. The starry-eyed dreamer disappears when she reaches for her sword. I’m not a tiny woman and I’m very good with a sword, but I can’t just overpower a man and split good steel armor like she can. The Valyrian blade helps, it’s so lightweight that you don’t get nearly as tired swinging it, but it can’t make me into a six-foot, fifteen-stone man. Their arms are so much stronger than ours.”

Beth put two fingers between her breasts and rubbed them on her skin.

“I feel an itch here sometimes,” she said. “Right where that Frey was going to bury his dagger. But then suddenly Dejah was there, hair flying and sword swinging, snarling like some avenging goddess.”

“As you have been there,” I said, “over and over. As Tansy was there while I drowned in the harbor of Duskendale. That is what sisters do.”

“Yes,” Tansy said. “But like Beth said, we need you. So we’ll be careful. We will not be separated. We don’t go anywhere alone, even to the privy, the stable or the common room. We’ll bar the door when we’re here and Beth and Jory will keep their swords under the bed.”

I was not comfortable with the idea of Jory serving as our armed protector, but I saw no alternative until I had regained at least the strength I had known on Barsoom. I slept uneasily that night on the straw-filled mattress, my arms curled around Lyra’s shoulders and my thoughts curled around hers. She continued to suffer pain, which I shared, but she seemed less willing to end her struggles and slide into death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next chapter, Jory Mormont defends her sisters.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Beth Cassel saunters.

Chapter Twenty

In the morning, Tansy’s raven had arrived with two other black birds, both bearing messages.

“Find!” he said, very proudly. “Find! Find!”

Tansy gave all three birds some corn, and our new friends each held out their legs with the attached tubes bearing small scrolls of animal skin. Tansy removed them and read them aloud to us. One message appeared to have been intended for a merchant in Gulltown, describing a shipment of salt. The other arranged for a meeting between a noble lady and her lover; she would no doubt be disappointed to miss receiving orgasm but that could not be helped. We needed the raven’s services more than she did.

Using a knife, Melly scraped the skins clean of their messages, and Tansy wrote out a new one to Lord Manderly in White Harbor, giving a copy to each bird. Tansy’s raven made sure the two messengers understood where to deliver their notes, and they flew off.

“You asked for a ship?” Dacey said. “To come here?”

“A fast warship,” Tansy answered, “that can escape any pirates or enemies lurking offshore. We’ll meet it here. I didn’t think it wise to try to arrange a meeting along the empty coastline.”

“How long do you think it will take?” Dacey asked.

“I’ve no clue,” Tansy admitted. “I asked Lord Manderly to send a response, so that should tell us when to expect the ship. But as to how long that might take, for either the return message or our ship, I just don’t know.”

I spent the next several days communing with Lyra; we huddled before the fireplace in our room or on the bed, and since the weather proved very fine sometimes in the inn’s small courtyard. Slowly I began to resume the morning exercises, under Melly’s watch as she did not wish me to overstrain my injury.

Melly declared that both Lyra and I had healed sufficiently to have our stitches removed. I was prepared to suffer further pain but she simply pulled on the string and cut it with a small tool known as “scissors.” I felt nothing beyond a tugging sensation. Lyra had no additional pain from the procedure, but still felt the thrust of John Carter’s sword – both that into her own flesh and that which passed between my breasts.

We each had a scar to remember the fight, and Lyra touched mine very gently after Melly left us alone in our room.

“It doesn’t hurt?” she asked aloud.

“I am still very sore,” I said, words that had passed my lips many times. “It is an odd sensation when you touch the scar, but it is not painful.”

“Nor is mine.”

She placed the fingertips of her other hand first on her scar, then on her own breastbone.

“He stabbed you there. Not me.”

“I have been telling you that for many days now.”

“I know. I . . . I don’t know what I’ve been feeling.”

“You have been feeling my thoughts,” I said. “And you received my unfiltered pain when I was injured. You had no training to prepare you for that. I should have been more careful in forging a bond with you.”

“I don’t want to die.”

“You will not,” I said. “Not now, not unless you allow it.”

“You kept me alive.”

“I did,” I said. “Had you died, I would have as well.”

“I feel the same way.”

“With our thoughts connected as they have been, that is the truth, not merely an expression. I would have died with you, or you with me.”

“Then I’m glad I didn’t die.”

“How do you feel now?”

“I’m still in a great deal of pain,” Lyra said. “And very sore; I can hardly move my left arm.”

“Do you wish to live?”

“What a strange question,” she said. “Of course I do.”

“I love you.”

“I know,” she said. “Now I really know.”

* * *

While we waited for the ravens to return, we explored what remained of Saltpans. The tiny garrison – I determined that it consisted of six soldiers and one elderly knight, all of them usually drunk – remained behind its gates and we did not trouble them. The brewery behind the inn had been repaired and resumed operation, giving us fresh ale to drink rather than risking ingested powdered lead with our wine.

The town’s salt-extraction operations had resumed. Saltpans lay near the point where a large river emptied into an inlet of the ocean, far enough downstream that the water offshore had a high mineral content. To the east of the town lay a beach with golden-brown sands and gentle surf.

While we awaited the return of Tansy’s raven, we spent our days at this beach. Tansy swam in the ocean with Beth while Jory, Lyra, Dacey and I watched them and Melly watched over us.

The innkeeper had found our desire to visit the beach eccentric, but gifted us with a tent he had found in the inn’s storage building. We modified it so it kept the worst of the sun from us, with one side completely open toward the ocean. I liked our tent. I could lie in the sun without damage to my skin, as my people had evolved in an environment subject to far greater solar radiation. My sisters suffered what they called “sunburn” if they remained under its glare too long, especially on skin that usually would be covered by clothing.

As I watched my sisters frolic in the waves, I felt someone’s thoughts approaching up the beach. It was a woman, and she sought a red-skinned woman with black hair likely carrying a sword. Someone in Saltpans had told her I might be found here on the sands.

I stood as she came close, and brought my sword out from under our pile of clothing and blankets. I tried to reach my mistress’ thoughts but the range was too great.

“Jory, stay here with Lyra,” I said, “Dacey, go get Beth. Run.”

The intruder was a decidedly unattractive woman, with many scars on her face, but she had a hard muscular body and, unusually for a female, was slightly larger than I, though shorter than Dacey. As she drew two swords her thoughts indicated that she well knew how to use them.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“To kill you,” she answered simply. Her thoughts supplied little more; she sought to collect the bounty on my corpse. She believed all women of Westeros to be untrained in combat, and thought I would be easy to kill. If not for my sisters, she might have been right.

“Stand back, Dejah,” Jory said, pushing me behind her. I knew better than to distract my little sister by arguing.

The strange woman was very fast, but the use of two swords at once slowed her reactions; no fighter, no matter how skilled, can truly give full concentration to two blades. I have fought that way on Barsoom, but over time have learned to prefer a single weapon even though unlike most people I can use either hand with equal dexterity – a legacy of my special breeding as a member of the royal family.

Jory was right-handed, like all of the Mormont birth-sisters, but I had taught her to avoid favoring one side. She put up a skillful defense, having spent hundreds of hours fending off Beth Cassel’s extraordinary blade speed. Knowing that Beth was even now pounding across the sand toward us, Jory only had to keep the woman from killing us. Even so, she faced a determined and deadly opponent. My little sister more than held her own and I felt a small ripple of fear pass through the unknown woman.

I felt Beth Cassel’s thoughts as she approached from behind us at a dead run, stark naked and filled with protective rage. As she drew close, she scooped up a handful of wet sand and flung it into the woman’s face. Blinded, the woman staggered backward but Beth did not slow down, lowering her shoulder and tackling the woman at full speed.

They crashed to the sands, driving the air out of my attacker’s lungs with a loud _whoof_ sound. The woman lost the sword in her left hand while Beth kept a death grip on her right. They wrestled as the woman struggled to bring her free hand down to pull out a dagger sheathed alongside her thigh and Beth punched her repeatedly in the face with hers.

“Kill her, Jory,” Beth said in a high-pitched, urgent voice. “Kill her _now_!”

Beth’s writhing body blocked the woman’s chest and neck, so Jory stuck her sword into the woman’s lower abdomen, just below the edge of the armor protecting her chest. She let out a grunt as the blade passed through her body. Jory worked it back and forth, twisted it and pulled it out. I saw the sand under the woman’s body begin to darken with her blood. She dropped her sword and the hand reaching for her dagger relaxed. Beth rolled off of her, drew the dagger herself and held it out of the woman’s reach. She pushed the sword that had fallen out of the woman’s hand away as well.

Tansy and Dacey had joined us.

“Who in the seven hells is this?” Dacey asked.

“Good question,” I said. “Who in the seven hells are you?”

She said nothing out loud, but a great deal within her thoughts. She and her partner and occasional lover, a younger man she thought of as her “little brother,” had served in one of John Carter’s mercenary companies. A few more questions were met with silence, but nonetheless revealed that they had deserted their employer and come to Saltpans seeking a ship to the North, planning to head to the little brother’s home near Winterfell rather than return to their duty. While in Saltpans, they overheard someone casually mention the red-skinned woman staying in the town. The two mercenaries knew of the bounty John Carter had placed on my head. Rumor said I was dead, but she had convinced her friend to help search for me just to be sure.

I relayed all of this to my sisters.

“Does anyone know where you are?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “Our whole company will be here soon.”

“No,” I said aloud. “They came alone. They left without leave. No one will miss them.”

 _Get out of my head, bitch_ , she thought.

“Where is your companion?”

She tried to think as intensely as she could of sticking her sword into my heart – like John Carter, she had the location wrong. Had she not been grievously hurt she might have managed to mask her thoughts for a while, but the pain was too intense. Her friend was in Saltpans, trying to find our lodgings. As Saltpans was a small place, I assumed he would succeed very soon.

“Leave . . . him . . . alone.” Words were coming very hard for her now.

I do not usually speak to those I am about to kill. There are no gods and there is no afterlife, so words spent on those about to die will not be remembered. We all tell our own story and like most of us she was probably the hero of hers; anything I said would mean nothing to her. But this nameless woman had offended me, coming out of nowhere to suddenly try to kill me. And it frightened me that she had almost succeeded.

“We will find him and kill him. You are a soldier. You know that we cannot leave him alive. If you had been a better soldier, my fierce sister could not have taken you by surprise and it would be you standing over me. Your failure has killed your little brother.”

“Bitches,” she breathed heavily. “Murdering . . . bitches.”

Beth looked at me. I nodded.

“Yes, we’re the bitches,” Beth told her. “You came here looking to murder my lover. Instead I’m going to kill yours. But first it’s time for you to die.” The mercenary’s armor had a notch that dipped low over her chest to show the top of her breasts; that now became a costly vanity. Beth placed the woman’s dagger there and shoved it into her heart. She sighed and her eyes became cloudy.

Tansy picked up the woman’s swords and put them back into their scabbards. She left the dagger in its owner’s heart. I checked the cooling corpse for money; she had none.

“Help me drag the body into the surf,” Tansy said. “I’ll tow it out past the waves and let it drift. There’s a current so it should come ashore a ways down the beach, hopefully miles. The tide will wash away the blood.”

While Tansy, Dacey and Melly dragged away the strange woman’s corpse, Jory cleaned her sword and we gathered our things. Beth washed herself clean of blood and sand and pulled on a grayish-white garment called a “shift.” I donned one of our simple brown dresses and pulled Jory close, my feelings roiled; she had saved my life, at the risk of her own. Had she not fought, I would be dead and probably Lyra and Dacey as well.

* * *

We decided to split up; Beth and I would return to Saltpans and kill the little brother while Melly and our sisters remained on the beach with Jory to protect them in case he somehow slipped past my telepathic scanning. I felt uneasy leaving Lyra, but Beth needed my help to eliminate this threat to all of our sisters.

Holding hands we walked back to the town; I would locate him with my telepathy and she would kill him. I sought out thoughts from our prey and was quickly rewarded; someone had just finished searching our rooms and had carefully looked up and down the alleyway behind the inn before climbing out of the window and walking toward the short street leading through the center of the town. I silently pointed him out to Beth, not speaking aloud.

“Is anyone watching?” Beth asked in a whisper, unsure she could frame her question only within her thoughts. I scanned intently. No one was about; the alley rarely saw any traffic and few windows faced it. All of the buildings across from the inn were damaged and still vacant. I shook my head.

“Stay here,” she said, handing me her sword-belt. “He knows about the red-skinned woman but has no idea who I am.”

My mistress left me in the shadow of yet another damaged building, and sauntered across the street into the alley opposite. I had never seen her saunter; she swayed her hips slightly and pulled back her shoulders to display her breasts, techniques she had been taught in Tyrosh. The shift still clung to her wet body, and I felt myself grow aroused watching her walk away, even as I felt the arousal of the man watching her approach. But unlike him, I could see the dagger she held behind her back.

The man smiled as she entered the alley; she returned the smile and placed her hand on his chest, gently pressing his back against the wall of the inn. His thoughts concentrated on the view of her breasts outlined under the wet cloth; he wished to cover them with his hands but hoped she might be about to pleasure his sex organ with her tongue.

“Don’t speak,” she whispered, moving her hand from his chest to cover his mouth. Still smiling, she stabbed him in the center of his chest below his ribs, thrusting the dagger upwards into his heart. He stared at the blade in his chest for a moment and softly murmured “game over” against the palm of her hand. Then he toppled to the ground. I quickly crossed the street to join my mistress while she wiped her dagger on the corpse’s tunic.

He was a handsome young man, about the same age as Beth, with short-cut golden hair and a short golden beard. He had hoped to charm a pretty young woman he assumed wished payment for sex, and enjoy himself without giving her money. And then a dagger appeared in his heart. I did not regret what Beth Cassel had done; if the young soldier had wanted to make love to a pretty freckled woman, perhaps he should not have plotted to murder her sister for money.

“Search him,” I said.

He had taken some gold from our room; we took it back. The inn’s privy was unoccupied so Beth took his arms and directed me to grab his legs; I was not yet strong enough to hoist him on my own. Beth pried the lid off the privy seat and we shoved him through to splash into the cesspit below. Unfortunately for him, he had left his sword and his armored breastplate hidden under some flowering bushes nearby, probably to make it easier to climb into our room. We threw those in as well, and walked back toward the front of the inn.

“Did we get away with that?” she asked.

I again concentrated my thoughts to seek out anyone thinking about what we had just done.

“I believe so.”

“That was very strange,” Beth said. “Those two didn’t seem to belong here at all.”

“No, they did not,” I said. “No one will notice that they have disappeared.”

Beth stopped me before we reached the street, pressing me against the wall near the spot where she had murdered her admirer.

“Kiss me,” she said. I knew that stressful situations aroused my mistress, and gladly played my tongue across hers and took her breast in my hand.

“I’ve missed this,” she said. I ran my thumb over her nipple, feeling it stiffen, feeling in her thoughts her enjoyment of my touch. “I want you to fuck me.”

“We have had no chance.”

“We do now,” she said. “They’re all at the beach. We have a room with a bed right in there. Make love to me now.”

I ran my hand from her breast slowly down her flank, feeling each ridge of her ribs as I brought it to rest on her hip. I rarely felt sexual desire as deeply as my sisters, but at this moment I wanted Beth Cassel as much as she wanted me. I took her hand as we walked into the inn and to our room, seeing no one inside.

The golden-haired man had tried to leave no sign of his intrusion, but I noted a few signs of disturbed clothing or furniture. Beth barred the door and pulled off her damp shift, leaving her naked.

“Off with the dress,” she demanded; I complied. She became very assertive when aroused. I found her attitude exciting; as a princess, my lovers including John Carter had always been deferential. I kissed her, and entered her thoughts.

Her desire swept away my hesitancy; I still felt pain across my upper body but I did not care. I released the kiss and pressed her onto the bed, lying on her back. I climbed onto the bed as well and straddled her, looking down. She moved her arms over her head and crossed them to lift her breasts. They were beautiful: dotted with freckles, their pink nipples pointing directly upwards. I reached down and took them gently in my hands.

Through her eyes I could see her look up at me, she focused on the fresh scar between my own breasts and pitied my pain, yet still found me desirable. I had believed my beauty ruined, but her deeply-felt longing could not be ignored. I remained beautiful in her eyes. I leaned over and kissed her deeply, then brought my breasts to her face where she could kiss them and run her tongue over my nipples.

She stopped and very deliberately kissed my scar, starting at the top and covering every part of it. She had sensed my self-consciousness.

“My scars are far worse,” she whispered, “and yet you think me beautiful.”

I did not answer; instead I kissed her again and began to work my way down her lovely body. With my tongue, I traced her freckles from her neck down the center of her breastbone. After paying close attention to each breast, I continued to move downward, though the freckles had ended. I slid off the bed and onto my knees on the wooden floor, but did not break contact with her skin or her thoughts. She shivered as my tongue moved across the hard muscles of her abdomen, a place where most women are soft, and she began to squirm when I reached her sex receptacle and pushed its folds aside. My tongue stroked the small organ within, and she quickly received orgasm, arching her back and slapping both hands across her mouth to stifle her scream.

Linked to her thoughts, I felt the pleasure ripple through my body as well as the hormones surged through me. I withdrew my tongue and pressed the side of my face against the cool flesh of her inner thigh. I did not scream, but I moaned rather loudly.

When my thoughts returned, I felt alive in every cell of my body. I had never felt such intense sexual desire. I slid onto the bed next to Beth Cassel and kissed her deeply, using my tongue freely. I slipped my fingers into her sex organ and stroked her; within moments her thoughts went blank and mine followed.

“You still think me beautiful,” I said, when I had recovered the power of speech. “You still desire me.”

“Of course I do,” she answered. “I’d have to be blind not to.”

“I am . . . damaged.”

“You’re my princess,” she said. “And I’m your mistress, and that’s how it is.”

“You learned that from Gilly.”

“I did. And I’d rather do this all day, but we have to get back to the rest of them.”

I put my hands on the bed-frame, pushed myself to my feet and pulled on my dress. Beth dressed herself in a set of Mormont black tunic and leggings.

“They will know what we did,” I said, somewhat embarrassed to face my sisters, especially Tansy.

“I think they’ll know anyway,” she said. “I don’t have to read minds to know that they expected it.”

“Tansy will be upset.”

“I should hope not,” Beth said. “I . . . tended to her needs this morning, while the rest of you still slept.”

She kissed me again.

“Safe with you,” she whispered.

“Safe with you, too.”

* * *

The innkeeper had begun cooking for evening meal, and filled three baskets for us with roasted chickens and pig meat, which is called “pork,” fresh bread and an apple pie. We also took a small cask of ale and wooden cups, and walked back to the beach where our sisters waited. I managed to carry my share without undue strain, which pleased me.

The orange and gold rays of the setting sun were beautiful as they reflected off the water. I had come to love this planet’s strange beauty. And I was very hungry.

“Dejah,” Tansy asked as she handed out the food. No one bothered to ask if we had found and killed the little brother. “I have to ask you something. It’s a serious question.”

I put down my chicken. I could not tell what my sister intended to ask; only that it troubled her. I hoped Beth had fully satisfied her need for orgasm, and she was not angry with me. But she had a completely different concern.

“That woman Jory killed on the beach. She was a professional fighter?”

“Yes. A soldier-for-hire, probably from the Eastern Continent since she scorned the fighting skills of Westerosi women. That was a mistake.”

“Dejah. I’m not a fighter by any means, but since I’ve known you I’ve seen you fight many, many times. I don’t really know how many.”

“Yes.” I still did not know where her line of thought might be headed.

She sighed.

“That bitch almost killed you. She would have if Beth hadn’t jumped on her. Naked.”

“I do not think so.” I reached over the table and squeezed my little sister’s hand. “Jory fought very well.”

“It’s you I’m worried about, not Jory. She did fight well, as far as I could see, and very bravely. But I saw you kill the Night’s King. Lyn Corbray. You killed a Kingsguard with a spork and a feared sellsword with a chicken bone. Half of the Holy Hundred and nearly all of Aurane Waters’ pirate crew. Pretty much the entire Frey family. A dragon, for the sake of the gods. You stabbed a fucking dragon to death with a sword and hopped off like you’d just finished a dance.”

“I also slew an ice dragon. And I am very good at killing people.”

“But are you still? Did you lose your strength and speed when John Carter stabbed you?”

“I do not know. I do not know the source of my extra powers, but if they are not magic, then they should not have been affected. And I believe in magic no more than I believe in magical beings called gods.

“I am still very sore. Even though it did not puncture my heart or my lungs, that sword wound damaged many muscles and nerve clusters and pierced my breastbone. It seems to be healing but it hurts to swing a sword, even one as light as mine. It hurts to run. Many things still hurt. It even hurt when Beth kissed my breasts.” Dacey choked on her chicken, overcome by a need to laugh. “I believe that with time and rest, I will fully recover and will have the same extra strength I enjoyed before the injury.”

“So,” Beth drawled out the word. “Would John Carter have killed the old Dejah Thoris, even missing your heart? Did your enhanced strength save your life?”

“Possibly. My bones are much stronger than they were on my own planet, and the sword would have gone much deeper had my breastbone not slowed it. I also think my people heal more rapidly than yours, and are more resistant to injury, even in our natural state. But I do not think that would have been enough for me to have survived this wound.”

“All the more reason to get back home,” Dacey said. “You and Lyra need more rest, and the three of you can . . . whatever, whenever you wish.”

“We have to stay here until the ship comes,” Tansy said. “Thanks to Bronn’s greed and that Dragon bitch’s stupidity we have the money for it. And we still have the necklace Dejah took off the Kingslayer’s sweet auntie.”

“There are worse places to wait,” Beth said, looking over the ocean view. “But what if more bounty hunters show up?”

“I do not think it likely,” I said. “Those two had left their company without permission. They were deserters. I do not think John Carter’s army is looking for me anymore. He likely thinks me dead.”

“Did you learn something,” Tansy asked, “or are you guessing?”

“Both,” I admitted. “The two sell-swords we killed believed that the red-skinned woman had been killed by John Carter. Beyond that, even though I could not read John Carter’s thoughts, I could feel his hatred. If he thought me alive, he would spare no effort to kill me, to kill all of us. We would have seen search parties by now.”

“We still might,” Dacey said. “Is there some way we can hide nearby, and still watch for the ship? If there is a ship.”

“I asked for a fast ship to pick us up here,” Tansy said. “I don’t know how long they’ll wait if we’re not here to meet them.”

“There’s no harbormaster here,” Melly put in. “Looks like ships just show up to load salt, and not very often at that. So there’s no one to tell a ship to wait.”

“You’ve been investigating,” Tansy said.

“No one’ll ever miss spotting one of you,” the healer said. “Just like no one notices one of me.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Leave me here with that bird,” she said. “Go on down the beach and wait there, far enough away so’s no one’s going to come upon you by accident.”

“Will you be safe?” Jory asked.

“Am I ever?” Melly returned. “Outside the noble houses, women’s lives are worth about the same as a chicken’s. Ask Tansy, she knows.”

Tansy nodded.

“But sometimes it’s better to be unseen than to swing a sword,” Melly continued. “No one’s like to even ask me a question.”

“The innkeeper knows you are one of us,” I said.

“Nothing gold won’t wash away,” Melly said. “Go on, I’ll be fine.”

* * *

In the morning we bought food from the innkeeper and packed our belongings, but had not yet departed when one of the messenger ravens returned. His friend alighted shortly afterwards, bearing the same letter.

In an adventure story, another seemingly-impassable barrier in the heroine’s path would appear with the ravens – “dark wings bring dark words,” Jory breathed – but Lord Wyman called it his great pleasure to assist and wrote that his fastest war galley would depart for Saltpans immediately. He estimated fifteen days to make the journey; Tansy said the ravens had needed three of those days already to reach us.

“Thirty days to White Harbor,” Dacey said, counting on her fingers. “Twenty more to Bear Island. Home in two moons’ turns.”

Fifty days of travel. One of Helium’s royal yachts would cover the distance – if I understood their measurements – in slightly less than four of their hours. Even less, since it could fly in a straight line. I wanted to be home, to have Lyra home.

We left Melly in our room at the inn and rode eastward along the beach, encountering no one. At a distance of a half-day’s ride we found a suitable place to set up our tent in a site hidden by trees, where the forest approached the sea.

Lyra seemed to be getting better; Dacey had had no outbursts in many days and had noticeably gained weight and strength. Each morning we all went through the exercises, and Beth sparred with Jory. I still could not participate in sword practice, but I began to work with Dacey on her footwork and reactions. Like her mother, she had relied on size and strength to overwhelm opponents with her mace; such a weapon can do vast damage but also leaves its wielder open to deadly counter-strokes. I would not wish to see her sliced open again.

Despite the relative closeness of Saltpans, we encountered no one on the beach; the people of this place feared the ocean and did not see it as a place for relaxation. Nearer to the town we sometimes encountered men catching fish in the surf using long poles with strings attached to them, but never did we see anyone swimming in the ocean or playing in the waves.

The sight of the broad horizons and the rolling waves still made me uncomfortable. I had learned to walk out into the water, as long as one of my sisters held my hand like that of a small child, but I could not bear to disconnect my feet from the sandy bottom.

Beth and I sat under a sheet of canvas on a sunny afternoon, our legs stretched in front of us as we watched Tansy swim. She clove through the water with powerful strokes. She swam often at Bear Island, but I now finally understood how she had saved me from drowning in Duskendale’s harbor. Ser Davos Seaworth, like most sailors, could not swim and he considered it bad luck to learn how. I would have died that night had my sister not been present; few swimmers would have been strong enough to pull me out of the depths and into that little boat.

“I am lucky to have found her,” I said.

“Yes, you are,” Beth agreed. “You’re lucky to have found me, too.”

“Yes, I am. I am glad you are my secret mistress.”

“Me, too.”

Tansy came out of the surf and ran to our tent, throwing herself to the sand at our feet. She lay on her back with her hands covering her eyes. She truly was beautiful.

“How are you today, Dejah?”

“Better. Much better. I feel more energy and strength.”

“How is she really, Beth?”

“She still can’t heft a sword, but I think she’s finally recovering.”

“Then soon,” Tansy said, “we’ll have to save the world again.”

“I want to go home,” I said, “to the midnight sun, where the hot springs flow.”

Four blue eyes looked into mine. I realized that I no longer recalled the color of John Carter’s eyes.

“Like it or not,” Tansy answered, “we’re heroes. We save things.”

“When did we become heroes?” Beth asked. “Mostly we just kill people worse than us, before they can kill us.”

Tansy rolled over to toast her back for a while.

“In this world, simple survival takes a great deal of heroism.”

“True enough,” Beth agreed. “But why are the Dothraki our problem?”

“John Carter brought them here,” I said, “to punish me. They are raping and killing because of me. They are my problem.”

I stretched my legs before me on the sand and contemplated my feet.

“Your problems are our problems,” Tansy mumbled, not raising her head from where she cradled it in her arms. “How long before Dejah is ready to fight?”

“Weeks, easily,” Beth said. “I can’t really say about the injury, but it’s not enough to heal. She needs exercise and practice, too. Rust kills.”

I wanted to protest, but my mistress was right. Tansy crawled into the shade and lay down between us for a mid-day nap, and paused to look up at us.

“Get well,” she said. “We haven’t finished saving the world from John Carter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next chapter, the Onion Knight rides to the rescue.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris re-unites with her family.

Chapter Twenty-One

Every day Tansy’s raven flew out to visit us and report that the ship had not arrived. The other two ravens sometimes accompanied him; they had no interest in returning to regular messenger service. With a great deal of coaxing, they finally agreed to fly to Bear Island with letters for Maege, telling her of our plans.

We played in the water, and I began to run up and down the beach for additional exercise. I found that my legs retained their enhanced strength, and I could still move at a very high speed for a person even in the loose sand. I remained very sore and unsettled in my upper body, and I knew that John Carter’s sword had done more damage than simply marring my once-perfect breasts. Lacking advanced medical care, I knew that I could do little other than rest and eventually perform rehabilitation exercises.

On the seventh day of our exile Tansy’s raven arrived in the late morning in high agitation.

“Come!” he squawked. “Come! Come!”

He projected a vision into my mind. A ship had arrived at Saltpans, far earlier than expected. I recognized the two men standing on her deck.

“Let us go,” I told my sisters. “Our ship has come in.”

I felt excitement and anticipation as I had not in a very long time. I longed not only to see Maege and the island, but also Gilly and Hot Pie and Gendry and Pia, and even the unpleasant Lyanna. I wanted to curry my mare, and pet Ralf the dog. I had found a place where I belonged, and Dacey had been right – I needed to heal on Bear Island.

We packed our belongings, in case we did not board the ship for some reason, and rode back to Saltpans. Once again I rode behind Lyra; she had grown stronger but could not yet ride confidently.

“We’re going home?” she whispered as I rode behind her.

“Yes,” I said, also speaking softly. “The ship came for us. Through the raven’s thoughts I could see Ser Davos and Ser Marlon.”

“Dejah,” she continued, “do you still love me?”

“You know my thoughts,” I said. “You know that I do, as fiercely as I am capable.”

“And you know that I love you. Stop worrying. We’ll always be sisters.”

“You must stay alive for that to matter.”

“Someday a sword might kill me,” she said, touching the space between her breasts. “But it’ll be a real one. Not this one, not today.”

She still wished to be my sister – and to stay alive. I pulled her close and kissed her under her ear. I felt a shiver go down her spine; we would have to address our sexual feelings but I promised myself that it would not be on my initiative. Lyra of course detected that thought, but said nothing.

* * *

We dismounted in front of the inn’s small stable, next to the privy where the little brother’s remains stewed in the cesspool below. I went inside the inn with Lyra and Tansy while the rest of our sisters put away our horses. I located Ser Davos, Ser Marlon and Melly in the inn’s small common room; no one else was present. The Onion Knight leaped up to greet us, silently taking me in a very careful embrace; Melly had told him of our injuries. Ser Marlon kissed my hand once Ser Davos released me to pull Tansy into his arms.

“I did not expect to see either of you,” I said, trying not to cry. “It is a very long journey.”

“Aye,” said the Onion Knight. “But one I’ve made many times. I was in White Harbor to see Lord Manderly when your raven arrived, and I would not be balked at taking ship to retrieve you and your sisters.”

“Lord Davos brought us here far more swiftly than the crew believed possible,” Ser Marlon said. “He bent the waves and wind to his will.”

“Nay,” Ser Davos said, “’twere only old smuggler’s tricks. I still have a few. We took some passages no sane captain would hazard, but it’s not so hard once you’ve done it a few dozen times. Some mornings I might not remember my own name, but I never forget a rock.”

I sat next to Melly at the inn’s large wooden table, and my sisters as well as the two knights joined us.

“Princess, the raven said you’d been sorely wounded,” Ser Marlon said. “Might I ask how sorely?”

I pulled down the front of my simple brown dress to show the scar; knowing the prudishness of our friends, I did not pull it far enough to show my nipples. Even so, both men turned red in the face.

“How did you not die?” the shocked Manderly knight asked.

“I am very hard to kill,” I said. “Even so, I almost died as did my sister Lyra.”

Lyra showed her own scar, which required less exposure of her breast. The men reddened again all the same.

“How could such a thing happen?” Ser Davos said. “You killed dragons.”

“I am very good at killing people,” I said. “But I am not invincible. I forgot that and became careless.”

“It was John Carter,” Tansy said, noting my reluctance to name him. “Dejah’s husband.”

Tansy told the men of our adventures, after the rest of our sisters joined us and greeted the knights. Ser Marlon had met Dacey at the Twins, and introduced her to Ser Davos.

“Ser Marlon calls you Lord Davos,” Tansy observed. “You’ve had a change in status?”

“Aye,” said the Onion Knight, now the Onion Lord. “The lords of the north could not agree on a new ruling family for Winterfell, and so they settled on me and mine.”

“And what of our mother?” Jory asked. “Is there news from Bear Island?”

“We sent ravens before we departed,” Lord Davos said, “but sailed with the tide and no answer had yet come.”

He paused and stared into his ale.

“Lady Beth,” he began, glancing at my secret mistress. “Your sisters live because of you. I . . .  I thank you.”

“I gave it no thought,” she said, and smiled. “I love them, too.”

“You fought John Carter?” Ser Marlon asked Beth. “Alone?”

“Aye, I fought him,” Beth Cassel said. “After Dejah, the princess, fell. He left the field badly wounded, and I took his sword and gave it to Jory.”

Jory slowly drew her blade, and laid it across her arm.

“Dark Sister,” Ser Marlon breathed softly. “The lost sword of Visenya Targaryen.”

“It is famous?” I asked.

“I wasn’t sure this was Dark Sister,” Jory said. “I’d hoped, but . . .”

“Visenya Targaryen was sister to Aegon the Conqueror,” Beth explained. “And his queen as well. She fought alongside him to subdue all Westeros. This sword is very famous.”

“John Carter must have had it from Daenerys, somehow,” Lord Davos said. “Carter still lived after your fight?”

“I opened his left arm,” Beth said. “I tried to finish him with a thrust to the heart, but he dodged and my blade entered his chest instead. He’s unnaturally fast.”

“Faster than you, Lady Beth?” Ser Marlon asked in surprise. “Yet strong as the princess? I find that alarming.”

“I gave him three serious wounds,” Beth said, somewhat defensively. “And he gave me none. I failed to kill him. But he can be beaten.”

“You have news of John Carter?” I asked, before she could become truly offended.

“Very little,” Lord Davos said. “We learned of his landing, and his unleashing hordes of Dothraki across the Crownlands and Riverlands, as though they’d not suffered enough. He’s not sent any word to us directly.”

“And indirectly?” Tansy asked.

“None there, either. It’s as though he has no interest in us.”

“He will,” Dacey said, “when he learns we’ve come home.”

“If needs be that we fight,” said Ser Marlon, “then we fight. Your sister returned to me my honor. I’ll fight for her with my life.”

“And die beside Dejah Thoris?” Dacey asked, but smiled. “There are worse places to die. Trust me in this.”

“John Carter is a military genius,” I said. “And a charismatic leader of men. The chances of killing him in single combat are much greater than those of defeating him in battle.”

“I have confidence in you either way, Princess,” Ser Marlon said.

“And I as well,” Dacey said. “You brought me back from the dead.”

* * *

Lord Davos said we could not depart until “the tide ran out.” I did not understand but knew he would tolerate no needless delay. If he said we must wait, then the wait must be necessary. While we waited, Tansy traded our horses to the innkeeper for enough food for the voyage, and somehow acquired a quantity of salt which the sailors loaded in place of the large stones that provided what Lord Davos called “ballast.” Asha Greyjoy had spoken of this concept as well: to sail properly, a ship could not float too close to the surface and so they carried weights to “trim” them.

The ship looked to be similar to _Sweet Cersei_ , but smaller, narrower and lower in the water. It had two decks for rowers, the upper one open to the sky but covered with a canvas awning to keep the sun and the rain off the rowers. It had about forty oars, and also had two masts for sails. Apparently it could be very fast, compared to other ships, if under the hand of an expert captain such as Davos Seaworth.

I sat on a low wall between Dacey and Lyra and watched the sailors. Seeing three beautiful women observing them – our clothing covered our scars – they worked bare-chested under the sun.

“Are you sure you wish to give up men?” I asked Dacey.

“I might have to reconsider,” she said, laughing. “No reason one can’t enjoy both, now is there?”

“Not in my lands,” I said. “But your ways are different.”

Lyra remained quiet. She had had few sexual thoughts, of men or women, since her injury.

“You seem much better,” I said.

“Yes,” Dacey and Lyra answered together, and finally both of them laughed.

“I expect you two to be the ones doing that,” Dacey said. “Do you have separate thoughts?”

“Of course,” Lyra said. “I’m still Lyra. I just have a closeness with Dejah, as though I can feel her at any time.”

“I envy you,” Dacey said, then looked at her feet. “I envy many things.”

“Do not feel shame,” I said, taking both of their hands. “You survived where few others would.”

“It’s not always something to envy,” Lyra said. “Some things . . . shouldn’t be known.”

She remained uneasy, with her innermost fears, desires and shame having been revealed to me. I shared her disquiet to some extent, but I was learning to trust my adoptive sister with my ugliest secrets.

“I know that too well,” Dacey said. “The things I wish no one knew fly right out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“I want to be close to both of you,” she went on, “and the others, the way you are with each other. I feel like I’m not connected to anyone or anything, like part of me’s still lying in that cell waiting to be fucked again. And again.”

She became upset, both from the memories and fear that she would lose control of her emotions. I let go of her hand and slipped my arm around her waist.

“I will always have a special bond with Lyra,” I told her. “But you are my sister no less than she.”

“I’ve done nothing to earn your love.”

“Love is not earned,” I said. “It is given. And I give mine to you freely. I hope you will give me yours one day.”

“No need to wait for that,” Dacey said. “You’re my sister now, but I’d love you just for setting me free.”

“I look forward to spending time with you at home,” I said. She seemed uncomfortable at those words. “You are not eager to see Bear Island again?”

“What place do I have there?” she asked. “Alysane is the heir now, and I shan’t usurp her place. You command the House Guard, Lyra is the warrior, and Tansy the steward.”

“You are our sister,” I said. “What other place matters?”

“I was raised to be useful,” Dacey said. “They’ve taught you the Mormont Way, have they not?”

“I have shoveled shit,” I said proudly. “Sawn logs, washed dishes and pursued screaming children. They do not allow me to cook food.”

“I explained it on our very first day together,” Lyra said. “Long before we were sisters.”

“Then you know. We work, we fight, we earn our keep. How will I do that? You all moved on without me. That’s what you should have done; I was dead to the rest of the world. And now I’ve come back, and my place is gone. How do I find a new one?”

“Dacey,” Lyra said, “Dejah had no place when she came to us. Mother adopted her on the spur of the moment so she could kill Lyn Corbray. She saw her as a living weapon, a killing machine that might be useful to House Mormont, not as a person. She had no place in the family.”

She turned to me.

“I’m sorry, I learned that when we were . . . connected. I shouldn’t have spoken such aloud.”

“You know I am not upset,” I said, and tried to smile.

“But Dacey,” Lyra went on, “Dejah made a place for herself. So did Tansy, and so did Beth.”

“Beth is a Mormont, just like us. She should always have been one of us, as soon as Aunt Beth died. You didn’t know Beth’s mother, she left when you were just starting to walk, but I did and I loved her. I wanted her baby to come home and be raised with the rest of us.”

“But she wasn’t,” Lyra said. “She was raised in Winterfell. And you know what happened to her. She had to find a place. Does she not seem to have one now?”

“So if Beth made one,” Dacey answered, “then I can too?”

“It won’t be the same place,” Lyra said. “It can’t be. You’re right: life moved on without you, as it had to.”

“I feel so alone.”

“You have your old sisters back,” I said. “And new sisters as well. I will never leave you.”

As I said that, I believed every word.

* * *

I boarded the ship in nervous anticipation for my return to the North and Bear Island. I felt somewhat queasy as the ship moved out into the wide bay, but did not vomit. Apparently the connection of my thoughts to Lyra’s calmed my nausea, as she never felt uneasy even in the roughest seas.

The sailors admired my sisters and I, as men often did, but several believed it bad luck to sail with women on board. I had not encountered this attitude from Mormont sailors, but I supposed that the men of Bear Island were more used to interacting with women. Some of the sailors whispered that we numbered seven, an auspicious number in their religion, and that helped quiet the muttering.

Davos assigned the seven of us to what had been the captain’s cabin, which stretched across the aft end of the ship as in _Sweet Cersei_. Though large for one man, it was cramped for the seven of us and had but one bed, known as a “bunk” aboard a ship. Melly insisted that Lyra and I squeeze ourselves in it, though my adoptive sister had recovered her desire to live, while my other sisters swayed in nets known as “hammocks” strung between the cabin walls, known as “bulkheads.”

From the sailors’ thoughts, I could tell that the ship’s regular captain respected Davos Seaworth as a fine navigator and sailor – he had shaved days off the usual passage from White Harbor. Both oars and sails powered the vessel; unlike the men aboard _Sweet Cersei_ , these rowers were free men paid for their service. Apparently the Onion Lord had offered a large bonus for swift arrival at White Harbor, and they stroked their oars with great enthusiasm.

“You are a great lord now,” I told Davos Seaworth as I watched the crew trim the sails. “With a great castle.”

“Aye,” he said. “’twasn’t my choice, but with you refusing to be queen the castle had to go to someone. Lord Glover and Lady Mormont feared civil war should Winterfell go to one of the houses.”

“They feared intrigue by Lady Barbrey.”

“I see you’ve not lost that uncanny insight of yours.”

I had actually guessed, but one did not need telepathy or insight to see the vile hand of Barbrey Dustin at work.

“She has done me great evil,” I said. “It was she who turned John Carter against me, and warned Walder Frey of our coming.”

“I’d think killing that blonde princess did as much to anger your husband,” the Onion Lord observed. “And it doesn’t seem as though Walder Frey profited any by foreknowledge.”

“That she is incompetent in her evil, does not excuse her evil.”

“You mean to kill her.”

I recalled Dacey’s rage. I had not given a great deal of thought to this, between my fears for Lyra and hatred for John Carter, but Davos Seaworth was correct.

“I do.”

He sighed.

“Ye have no proof,” he said. “Not all of the lords would support such a thing without proof. Most will: Glover, Seaworth, Cerwyn, Reed, Manderly and the Free Folk from love of you, Umber in gratitude for his rescue. Most is not all.”

“Are there any others left?”

“Well, not many, but that wasn’t my point.”

“You do not wish for me to destroy any more castles.”

“Not in the North, no, and not without the express command of the Lords.”

“That is reasonable,” I said. “And if Lady Barbrey should meet with an accident?”

“Make sure someone saw you far, far away from Barrowton.”

* * *

For the first time, I enjoyed a sea voyage. This ship would take me back to my home, to my adoptive mother who loved me, to the place where I felt safe. My sisters and I would heal there.

Lord Davos had shown us how one could safely sit on either side of the small mast, called a “bowsprit,” that leaned out ahead of the ship. I sat there with Tansy watching the ship crash through the waves and communing with the thoughts of the friendly sea beings known as “dolphins.”

“I would not have survived without you,” I told her.

“No, you wouldn’t have,” she said. “I’ve never been so scared. Not even when I thought the pirates were about to rape and kill me.”

The dolphins admonished me; I had not given enough care to my first sister’s well-being.

“I am sorry,” I said. “I put you in danger.”

“It’s not that,” she said. “I thought you’d been killed, taken a sword right to the heart. You saw what happened to Lyra. You’re not just risking your own life. If you die, then so do I. So does Lyra, and so does Beth. You carry part of us with you.”

“I am a fighting woman of Helium,” I said. “It is what I do.”

“You’re a very long way from Helium.”

“I am a Mormont,” I said. “I will always fight to defend our family.”

“Just remember what you risk, every time you draw that sword.”

I held her hand, and continued to exchange thoughts with the dolphins. They were intelligent, but communicated at a very basic emotional level that I found soothing.

* * *

Clear weather helped speed us on our way, and we reached White Harbor on a morning marked with only a handful of clouds. Lookouts spotted our ship’s sail markings, and a small group gathered to greet us on a stone embankment known as a “quay.” I detected their thoughts, and grew ever more excited.

“She’s here,” I whispered to Tansy as we dressed in our Mormont black tunics and leggings with green surcoats. “Maege is here. With Alysane and Gilly.”

The sailors placed a wooden walkway between the ship and the quay, and Davos Seaworth helped Dacey across. I followed, with my arm around Ser Marlon’s shoulders, and Lyra between Beth and Tansy with Jory behind them.

“It’s you,” Maege whispered on seeing Dacey. “You’re alive.”

She wrapped Dacey in an embrace and sobbed; Dacey soon wept as well. The rest of us climbed onto the quay to be greeted by Alysane, Galbart Glover and Ser Wylis Manderly. And my friend Gilly.

“You brought her home,” Alysane said, wrapping me in her arms after she had embraced Dacey and then Tansy. “You brought her home. Alive.”

She stepped back, keeping her hands on my upper arms.

“You’ve been hurt.”

I touched the snout of the bear symbol on my chest that lay over the scar between my breasts.

“John Carter tried to run me through. He forgot where my heart lay, in every way possible.”

“It’s over here,” she said, putting her hand above my left breast. “And on Bear Island. Your real family knows.”

“He tried to kill Lyra as well.”

Lyra touched her own scar; Alysane embraced her.

“I should have died,” Lyra told her. “Dejah brought me back.”

Alysane looked at her, seeming puzzled.

“It will take some explaining,” Lyra said.

“I want to hear it all,” Alysane said. “Let me greet these two.

“You’re not injured?” she asked Jory and Beth, taking them both into her arms when they shook their heads.

“No,” Jory said. “Beth fought John Carter and saved us all.”

“And I’m alive because Jory killed the Dothraki trying to flank me.”

“More stories I need to hear. Let me try to see more of Dacey first.”

Maege had finally released Dacey, and now Alysane took her turn hugging and crying, touching Dacey tentatively as though she did not really exist. A smiling Lord Glover clapped Davos on his back, and kissed my hand and that of each of my sisters, and Melly’s as well.

“I’m thinking this reunion would be the less without your aid,” he told her.

“And you’d be thinking straight,” she told him, pausing before adding, “milord.”

“You have my gratitude,” Lord Glover said. “The North still needs Azor Ahai.”

Gilly remained standing behind Maege, and I called to her, embracing her when she drew near.

“You left your child on Bear Island?” I asked.

“I figured you needed me,” she said. “Lady Maege, she said you’d had a rough time of it.”

“I did. I almost died, as did Lyra.”

“Then here’s where I need to be.”

“Little Sam is well?” I asked, recalling my courtesies.

“Growing like a weed,” she said. “Fat and happy.”

Ser Wylis told us that food and drink awaited us within their castle, known as the New Castle, along with his father Lord Wyman. I assumed that the city also contained an Old Castle. The New Castle stood at the top of a steep hill, and six stout soldiers raised Ser Wylis on a litter to carry the fat man to his home. The rest of us walked; I stood between Tansy and Gilly, holding their hands, while Maege walked with Lyra and Alysane with Dacey.

Gilly’s presence affirmed that I had returned home. She told us that Gendry and the Guard troops had returned safely to Bear Island; she had received orgasm from my surrogate son soon afterwards. I had that thought he would confine his sexual attentions to Jeyne Poole, but that was not up to me. And it pleased me that Gilly was pleased.

The New Castle had a bathhouse, and we headed there to scrape off the salt and dirt of our voyage before meeting Lord Manderly. I enjoyed soaking in hot water alongside Tansy, and afterwards Gilly helped me dry off and dress – I still had trouble lifting my arms over my head. Once again we wore our Mormont black with bear-symbol surcoats. Gilly wore a set as well, but Melly kept her brown dress.

“Lady-in-waiting’s a title for the high-born,” she said when I asked. “Besides, she’s got the tits for it. I look like what I am, a sheep-herder’s daughter grown old birthing babies.”

* * *

Lord Wyman’s hall had been decorated with paintings, sculptures and reliefs of fantastic sea creatures. I later learned that some of these actually existed, or were believed to have existed, while others were purely the product of myth or imagination. A long table had been erected in the center of the hall and heaped with platters of food and pitchers filled with drink.

As I had been warned, Lord Wyman proved to be the fattest person I had ever seen. I wondered how he managed to move about in this planet’s heavy gravity. He sat at one end of the long, wide table, flanked by Maege and Lord Glover. I was led to a place between Ser Marlon and a young, green-haired woman named Wylla, daughter of Ser Wylis. Unlike both of her parents, she was not fat. Tansy sat across from me, between Wylla’s older sister Wynafryd and Ser Wylis.

I asked Ser Marlon if Gilly could sit between us; he graciously stood aside and kissed her hand.

“Lady Gilly,” he said, bowing. “Wife of the late Lord Samwell Tarly.”

“Just Gilly,” she said. “Friend to the princess.”

“And a noble title that is, my lady.”

Before us were fish of several types, lobsters, crabs, small sea insects known as “shrimp” and long, slimy creatures called “eels.” I eagerly awaited Tansy’s silent signal to fill my own plate, while Gilly watched to follow her lead as well.

“Princess!” the lord of White Harbor greeted me as a servant brought me coffee; I feared that the Manderlys would serve sweet wine but Ser Wylis had remembered my fondness for the bitter-tasting stimulant. “I’ve heard much about you. Your latest exploit warms my heart. The Freys murdered my son.”

“I believed that they had murdered my sister Dacey,” I said. “Our mother wished them dead, and I was pleased to comply.”

“And you rescued Lady Dacey,” he said. “We all counted her among the slain, and mourned her passing. That someone survived . . . it makes the evils of that day somewhat less painful.”

In fact, it brought him even more pain, the knowledge that his younger son was not among the rescued.

“I hope you are well,” he continued, knowing that I was not. “John Carter is said to be a fearsome warrior.”

“He is,” I said. “Both my sister Lyra and I were gravely wounded, but Beth Cassel defeated him and drove him away.”

The lord of White Harbor calculated the risk to his house of continuing his alliance with House Mormont, and whether I remained a capable fighter. The news that I had been defeated, and almost killed, shook him greatly though outwardly he showed no change in his demeanor.

“What do you plan to do now?” he asked me. “Return to Bear Island?”

“Yes,” I said. “I need to rest and recover, as do my sisters Lyra and Dacey. If John Carter marches northward, I will challenge him to single combat and this time I will kill him.”

“You tried that already.”

“I was distracted,” I said. “Foolishly hopeful that he would remember me, and our love. I only blocked his strikes and did not attack. That was a mistake I shall not repeat. He is no longer the man that I loved and married. He has become a monster.”

“I wish I could fight,” Wylla Manderly interjected. “A woman should not be so helpless. Would you teach me?”

“If my adoptive mother and your father approve, I would be glad to do so. But I hope to return to Bear Island as quickly as possible.”

“The princess has long been away from our home,” Maege said. “But I would gladly house Lady Wylla as our guest. It’s up to you, Lord Manderly.”

Lord Manderly again calculated, leaving Wylla’s father, Ser Wylis, out of any discussion.

“Let it be so,” he said. “Let the friendship between our houses grow ever deeper.”

He had decided to keep his wager on the red princess after all; the Manderly share of gold and silver taken from the Twins greatly influenced his opinion.

As a well-trained princess, I knew that we must pay our respects to our host no matter how much I longed to spend time with my adoptive mother. I well understood that Dacey would be her first priority, but I had greatly missed Maege’s comforting presence.

Lord Davos explained that we would depart in two days’ time on another oared craft, this time called a “boat,” that would take us up the river known as the “White Knife” to a landing place on the road to Winterfell. Horses would await us there, and we could ride to the new seat of House Seaworth and then on to Deepwood Port to take ship for Bear Island. Despite my relative lack of facial expressions, Ser Wylis detected my disappointment.

“It’s not a bad journey, princess,” he said. “But it will be easier soon enough. When the Moat Cailin project is complete you can take ship here in White Harbor, sail to the new port on the eastern short of the Neck, make a short crossing and take ship again for your island. Should shorten the journey considerably, and make it far easier for our houses to exchange goods and visitors.”

And so he explained his father’s willingness to cement our alliance, expecting me to read his hints rather than his thoughts.

* * *

The dinner complete, a servant guided us to a set of chambers in a large tower and I could finally fall into the arms of my adoptive mother.

“You brought Dacey back,” she whispered. “And saved Lyra. And almost died doing it. Our family is whole because of you.”

“I would do anything for our family.”

She drew me to a seat next to her beside the large fireplace.

“I know that, sweetling. How are you?”

“I remain very sore, and have not regained the strength in my arms.”

“And you know that’s not what I asked.”

“My marriage is ended. I feel a fool for not having seen his vicious character.”

“No one is just one person,” she said. “Not all the time. You saw the parts that you wished to see. And you had left the marriage yourself some time ago.”

“To be with Tansy?”

“Yes,” she said. “And my niece.”

“Were you ever married?” I changed the subject away from my lovers. Maege recognized the ploy, but played along.

“No. When my brother was lord of Bear Island he hoped to betroth me to one of the Stark boys, preferably Brandon, the older one and the heir, but Ned if needs must. I refused, and Jeor never forgave me.”

“That is why Ned Stark married Catelyn?”

“No,” she laughed. “Old Lord Rickard Stark wouldn’t marry any of his sons to a Northern girl, not when he could play the game of thrones. Soon after, I had a child of my own.”

“Dacey told me this. You wished to marry Dacey to Robb Stark.”

“Lyra, actually, since Dacey was much older than Robb. I never told any of them that. I’m glad it never happened.”

“I want to go home.”

“And I want you home,” Maege said. “All of you, including Dacey. Your friend Myranda Royce wrote asking to visit, and I told her she was welcome.”

That surprised me; when last I saw her, Randa had refused to forgive me for killing the not-dead Sansa Stark and declared our friendship ended. If she had changed her mind, that would make me very happy.

“And the second Frey castle?” I asked.

“Fuck the Freys,” Maege said. “I have my Dacey back. Let the Freys live in terror of a return visit. Without their bridge and the hoard of gold they’ll shrivel and die on the vine. Or someone else will come and finish them off.”

“You are less determined on vengeance?”

“You found Dacey. That outweighs anything to be gained by more vengeance. I’ll not risk you, or any of my daughters, for something so empty of meaning. Who killed Walder?”

“I did,” I said. “Walder took a boat to escape, and I pursued him with Tansy and Beth. I was not in the castle for most of the killing. Lyra had the command. They killed all the Frey adults still left alive and burned the castle.”

“Walder knew,” Maege asked, “that you acted on behalf of our house?”

“He did. He thought we came on behalf of the Starks. I corrected his error before I killed him.”

“How did he die?”

“Tansy caught Walder’s boat. He had four soldiers with him; Beth and I killed them. He was also accompanied by two of his family. I killed Genna Lannister, wife of Walder’s son Emmon Frey. Beth killed Emmon Frey after she told him that the Mormonts sent their regards.

“I then forced Walder to kneel, told him he would be executed for his crimes and cut him in half. He was a loathsome man with a foul mind; I did not mind killing him.”

“Good,” our adoptive mother said. “Who else was slain?”

“Many, but I never learned their names. Beth killed Walder’s queen, a woman named Busty Betsy. I killed a screeching man named Lothar Frey, a mind as vile as Walder’s.”

“Good,” Maege repeated. “Another son of Walder. He planned the Red Wedding, or so it’s said. How did the rest of my daughters fare?”

“Beth killed Jaime Lannister during a fight in a tavern south of the Twins, and she defeated John Carter in single combat. She has become exceptional with a sword and ferocious in battle. All of us would have died without her. Tansy held us together after Lyra and I were hurt.

“Both Lyra and I would have died without Melly, and possibly Dacey as well. Toregg and Ryk fought bravely and well before we sent them north with messages.”

“They delivered their letter to Galbart, and he sent it on to me. They’re good men, both of them. But what of Jory?”

I hesitated.

“She killed someone in the Twins,” I finally said. “Tansy was there but I do not know what happened and have feared to ask. She killed a Dothraki who had outflanked Beth. After I was injured she killed a sellsword woman warrior who wished to kill me, and likely would have done so. Beth took John Carter’s sword, a famous Valyrian blade called ‘Dark Sister,’ and gifted it to Jory.”

“So she’s had a man and killed a man. She’s fully a Mormont woman now.”

“I wished her to remain innocent.”

“You’ve never had daughters.”

“I have,” I said. “I did not tell you the full truth when we first met.”

“Then you do know. You can’t keep their innocence, no matter how hard you try. You just try to keep its loss from taking their soul with it.”

“We grow much faster than you,” I said, “and the bond between parent and child is far weaker. We have little innocence to be lost.”

“I’m not so sure,” Maege said. “You say you’re much older than me, but there’s no doubt which one of us is the daughter. You’re more innocent than you’d have me believe.”

“I do not feel that I am. I often feel monstrous.”

She stood and bent to kiss my forehead, then changed her mind and squatted in front of me.

“Dejah, I birthed these others,” she said, “but you’re the daughter I chose. Don’t you ever forget that.”

She rose and moved across the room to join Lyra, who looked at me and smiled. I did my best to smile back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next episode, Lyra Mormont receives orgasm.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris agrees to assist young love.

Chapter Twenty-Two

With Maege, Davos and Galbart Glover, Tansy and I joined Lord Manderly for a small Evening Meal. Much of the talk concerned the power and commercial relations of the North, in which I had little interest. I spoke politely when addressed, but mostly gave my attention to the food and drink.

“You are well, Princess?” Wyman Manderly rumbled.

“I am much better now that I have returned to the North,” I said. “I am glad to be among friends once again. But I am eager to be home.”

“Thoughtless of me,” the fat lord said. “I’d hoped for more discussions, as it’s hard for me to travel. But you do need to be home. I’ll order the dockyard staff to work through the night to prepare for your journey up the White Knife, and you can leave tomorrow.”

“I thank you greatly,” I said. “I have no wish to be rude, but my sisters and I long for our island.”

“I understand,” he said, though he was actually greatly disappointed. “Might I ask a few questions regarding John Carter?”

“Of course,” I said.

“Can we defend the North from him? We would assume all of our forces to be present, with you to command them.”

“How many?” I asked.

The lords looked at one another.

“Assuming every house answers, call it ten thousand,” Galbart Glover said. “Two thousand professionals, the rest levies. Very few mounted. We’ve lost the fighting men of three houses entire, plus heavy damage to all the rest.”

“And how many has he?”

“We believe he has 40,000 Dothraki, and half that many sellswords. But reports vary wildly. No one has sighted the remaining dragon.”

“I do not believe he can control the dragon with Daenerys dead,” I said. I was not sure of this, but did not wish to plunge Lord Manderly into despair. “But if he truly has 60,000 troops, even with detachments for garrisons and other duties we shall be outnumbered three to one, and his Dothraki are very mobile. We can delay him in the swamplands but I do not believe that we can stop him.”

“No one has ever taken Moat Cailin from the south,” Lord Manderly said. “Present company excepted, of course.”

“That is because your armies, meaning those of Westeros, are fragile. Any place can be taken, if the attacker is willing to accept the losses. John Carter is a military genius, and worse, he is willing to see any number of his men die. They are simply game pieces to him, in his land’s version of _chevasse_.”

I had long known this to be true, but as with other aspects of my former husband’s character, I had chosen to overlook it.

“What do you suggest?” Lord Manderly continued.

“First, the North needs better information,” I said. “An organized effort to discover what John Carter is doing, and what his intentions might be.”

“The Targaryens did that as did the Lannisters after them,” Galbart Glover said. “A Master of Whispers collected information, but also conducted secret operations against their enemies – assassinations and the like.”

“You do not have to murder people,” I said. “But such an office has become necessary. We were fortunate that Daenerys was arrogant enough to warn us of her coming. We cannot count on John Carter behaving so stupidly.”

I had understood for some time that Westeros had no government; individual lords might have some assistants but these people were servants of the lord rather than leaders of permanent organizations. I did not know if I should introduce them to the dubious blessings of bureaucracy.

“And when your husband does turn his eyes north?” Lord Manderly persisted.

“I still believe that our best course is another single combat,” I said. “I will attempt to arrange this to be three against three, with my sisters Beth and Lyra fighting with me. We have long practiced to fight as a unit, something John Carter always resisted. He is a loner. Even if he and his two champions are better individual fighters than we three, which I do not believe will be the case, they will not fight together.”

Lord Manderly idly played with his fish-fork; he did not like this plan.

“I’ve seen the sisters fight,” Lord Glover said. “I’ve never seen the like. I have to agree with the princess, much as I dislike staking her life to defend us in this manner.”

“And should you . . . fail?” Lord Manderly asked.

“We deploy what my former husband would call ‘scorched earth tactics.’ We take the people into the castles, fill the granaries with stores as though Winter were coming, and burn all the fields and farms. Let his troops starve.”

“It’s a good plan,” Maege said. “We can still defend the Moat, and perhaps it will hold. If it falls, we’ll be ready.”

“Aye,” agreed Lord Davos. “We should start filling our Winter stores now.”

“Always, the smallfolk suffer,” Galbart Glover said. “We can make ready, we must, but I do hope the princess can spare us the necessity.”

“The North is not wealthy,” I said. “There are easier, and richer, lands to conquer first.”

“A fair point,” Lord Manderly allowed. “How long would that take?”

“I have no way to estimate,” I said.

“Years,” Tansy put in. “Some will yield quickly, but many will fight him. Even on horseback, he still has to ride and fight across all of Westeros. That’s a very large place.”

“So it is, my lady” Lord Manderly agreed. “And even two years would be welcome time to train those levies, lay in supplies and finish Moat Cailin.”

* * *

When we left him, our host felt better to have a workable plan of resistance. We returned to our chambers.

“The Manderlys have given us additional space,” Tansy said as we walked through a well-lit corridor behind one of the servants. “So we wouldn’t feel crowded.”

“You two and Beth have your own chamber, no doubt?” Maege asked.

“No doubt,” Tansy smiled.

The chamber, high in one of the castle’s turrets, was round with a large central fireplace. I detected Beth’s thoughts inside as we approached, and opened the door to find my secret mistress stretched on a large bear skin before the fire, naked.

“I felt your thoughts,” she said. “You’re both overdressed.”

Tansy and I wore Mormont black; I started to peel mine off but Tansy stopped me.

“Let me,” she said, gently lifting my tunic. I did the same to hers.

“I never get tired of this,” Beth said, watching intently. “Keep going.”

I put my arms about Tansy’s neck and kissed her, deeply. I had not made love to my first sister since our stay at Castle Darry; I had missed her touch even more than I realized.

“I have missed you,” I told her. I kissed her again, moving to her throat. I noticed, with surprise, that I could still feel her thoughts within mine though I no longer kept eye contact. I continued downward to her breasts, reveling in feeling her pleasure as I never had before. Noticing my excitement, Beth rose to her feet and walked over to press herself against Tansy’s back.

I continued my downward trek, gliding over her abdomen – not as hard as Beth’s athletic physique, but much firmer than that of most women of these lands thanks to our constant exercises – to her sex receptacle. I could now rest my weight on my knees, which already trembled with the excitement I felt through her thoughts, extend my tongue and apply it to her pleasure center.

I knew that she reacted far more powerfully to my tongue than she did to my fingers, or even to Beth’s tongue, but I had not been able to experience her feelings through her thoughts. Both of my lovers slowly sank to the bearskin, their legs made weak by the force of the shared orgasm.

When I had only barely recovered, Tansy pressed me from my side onto my back, kissing me passionately while Beth sucked and licked at my breasts. I still felt somewhat sore, but continued anyway; when Tansy released the kiss Beth moved into her place and I kissed her while Tansy applied her tongue to my mistress’ breasts. I stared into Beth’s blue eyes, feeling Tansy’s tongue on her breasts and her growing excitement at the sensation; she received orgasm when Tansy moved to her pleasure organ. Both Tansy and I followed her into oblivion.

This time I needed a few moments to recover, but soon my lovers had begun to kiss one another. I lay behind Tansy, my breasts pressed firmly into her back, and reached between her legs while she did the same to Beth. They received orgasm nearly simultaneously, and again I felt my entire body shudder as my thoughts went totally quiet.

Not long after, I detected Lyra’s thoughts approaching. I shakily rose to my feet and admitted her to our chambers.

“You could have warned me,” she said as she slipped through the doorway, but she smiled. “Our thoughts are still connected.”

She did not seem angry, so I took her hand and led her to the wide bearskins before the fire where Beth and Tansy reclined, still naked. I joined them, while Lyra pulled off her brown dress and settled between Tansy and I. Briefly she considered how she never would have taken nudity so casually before meeting me.

“You did not know,” I asked her, “What I meant to do with our sisters?”

“I knew you’d gone to dine with Lord Wyman, so I wasn’t following your thoughts, no more than you were paying attention to mine. So Mother returned, and we sat at the table drinking wine while she told what had been discussed with Lord Manderly. And then just as I took another sip . . . I came.”

“You received orgasm?”

“I received orgasm like a springtime avalanche. Spat out wine all over myself. While talking to my mother. Our mother.”

“Did she know what it was?” Beth asked from my other side.

“Of course she knew. It was all she could do not to bellow with laughter.”

“What did you do?” Tansy asked.

“I put my head down on the table, on my arms, so no one else could see. Mother told Jory and Dacey that I wasn’t feeling well and shooed Melly away. Then another one started. When the waves finally stopped, I started to climb up here. I came a third time before I could make it to your chambers, staggering and crashing into walls and doors.”

“I had not thought of this complication,” I said. “I am sorry.”

“I’m not really upset,” Lyra said. “It was embarrassing. Extremely embarrassing. But I’ve never felt it so intensely, not myself. Only in your memories. No wonder you’re afraid of becoming . . . dependent.”

“Afraid?” Tansy asked.

“I’m sorry,” Lyra said, turning to me. “I really don’t mean to spill your secrets.”

“We are sisters,” I said, “It is alright.” I looked at Tansy. “I find myself craving orgasm far more than I ever wished sex before you and I became lovers,” I told her. “The intensity of it, fed back and forth between our thoughts, is like a powerful drug. My people know nothing like it.”

“I can understand that,” Tansy said. “Neither do ours; sex without the thought connection pales next to this.”

She flushed red, and leaned across Lyra to speak to Beth.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean . . .”

“It’s alright,” Beth said. “I feel the same way. I love you, but I can’t share your thoughts without Dejah connecting us.”

“What happens now?” Tansy asked, softly touching Lyra’s breast with two fingers and grinning. Lyra playfully slapped her hand away.

“I enjoyed it,” Lyra said. “At least I would have, if I hadn’t been wishing I could turn into a mouse and skitter away. I don’t want to intrude on what the three of you have, and I don’t know that I want to . . . with a woman, even you three.”

“Is it even possible to do it with four?” Beth asked.

“Yes,” Tansy and I said at once, and laughed.

“I can block our connection if you wish,” I told Lyra. “But I value it greatly.”

“As do I,” she said. “Can you block it while the three of you are . . . engaged? And restore it later?”

“I believe so,” I said. “But sometimes I lose control.”

“I know,” Lyra smiled. She wondered if she and I might become lovers, without Beth and Tansy discovering, and felt shame, but also understood that I was not offended and similarly tempted. Everyone has unkind or even deceitful thoughts; that does not mean that the person will ever act on them.

* * *

Lyra spent the night snuggled between Tansy and I; our arrival in the North had made her far happier and less anxious. For the first time since before the attack on the Twins I slept alongside my adoptive sister and enjoyed her touch without worry for the future or for her life.

In the morning, she seemed much more like she had been when I first knew her, happy and energetic. We cleaned ourselves with damp cloths; our sisters had already left to discuss trade and some building projects with Maege, Aylsane, Ser Wylis and the merchant Medrick over First Meal and coffee.

“We’re going home,” she said aloud, detecting my observation. “It’s where we belong.”

“You have not slept so soundly since before the Twins.”

“That’s true,” she said, and paused.

“You’ve felt my thoughts. My deepest thoughts.”

I nodded, anticipating her words. I knew she had hoped to speak with me alone.

“I killed unarmed men and women in the Twins,” she said. “Some by my own hand. The rest of them at my order.”

“No,” I said. “Do not believe that. Reach into my mind and know it for the truth. I held the command and I gave those orders. You carried them out in my name. If there is a monster here, it is I.”

“You weren’t there.”

“Because I was elsewhere killing other Freys. Lyra, you know that I cannot lie to you, even if I wished it. Each of us has reason to regret things. If there is blame for this, it is mine and not yours.”

“I know how it eats at you, the killings, the dead.”

“And I know that you wish to share my burden, because you love me. But you cannot ease mine, only add to your own. This is not your shame. The responsibility is mine alone. That is the nature of command. It is very lonely.”

She nodded, and smiled.

“Dacey thinks I just love you for your tits.”

“They are worthy,” I said. “Or they were before John Carter scarred them. But you know what lies beneath, and still love me.”

Tansy and Maege seemed very pleased with their meeting, and asked me to speak with an architect the Manderlys had found to assist us. I found him a rather boring type, a man from Braavos dedicated to his craft, but paid added attention nonetheless – I well knew how assassins of Barsoom would attempt to hide their evil designs behind a bland façade. I also asked to speak with his two assistants, also men of Braavos, and made sure none of them had evil intentions toward Tycho Nestoris or against House Mormont. All were attracted by the large payments in gold promised by the Manderlys on our behalf. I signaled my approval to Maege, who seemed relieved.

After collecting our belongings – little more than our weapons – we Mormonts boarded the riverboat along with Wylla and Ser Marlon Manderly, Galbart Glover, the three architects and the four Mormont soldiers who had accompanied Maege. A different crew and captain manned this craft, and Davos Seaworth played no role this time, explaining that navigation at sea and on rivers required very different skills and knowledge.

Once again, the thought of home drove away my seasickness, and I leaned on the rail over the aft end of the boat – I had learned this term when I boarded the ship named _Sweet Cersei_ – to watch the farmlands fall away behind us. The green and blue colors all about me seemed less strange than they once had.

“So, Princess,” Lord Davos said, taking a place alongside me. “A moment, if you would.”

“Always,” I said.

“I’ve no skill at the games of the highborn, as you know. Yet I’ve had a thought.”

“Yes?”

“You’ve met my son Devan,” he said, and I nodded. “We’re bringing Lady Wylla back to Winterfell and on to Bear Island. I’m wondering if now would be the time for him to train with you as well, as you mentioned some time ago. You needs not take him if you’d rather not.”

“You like Wylla,” I said, “and wonder if she would be a good daughter-by-law.”

“You always were perceptive.”

I thought for a moment.

“She is the younger daughter, if I understood correctly, in a family with no sons. You are now lord of a great house. The fat lord should be pleased.”

“I’m sure he would be,” Davos said, “as he made the suggestion himself. That’s why I was in White Harbor when your raven arrived, to discuss a betrothal. Yet I’d rather my son be pleased.”

“You would not rather match your son with Meera Reed?”

“Young Lord Jojen hasn’t offered, while Lord Manderly has, and I get the impression young Lady Reed has no wish to leave the swamps.”

“That is regrettable,” I said. “I like Meera Reed very much, and she is an attractive young woman.”

“Were she miserable at Winterfell, it would be to no one’s benefit.”

“You’ve considered this for some time.”

“I have. So what do you think of Wylla?”

“She is intelligent and pretty, but she appears very thin. I know that it is important for upper class women to bear children, and I would fear for her. The green hair is odd in these lands, and perhaps your son shall find her sexually desirable after a regime of food and exercise.”

Davos sputtered.

“We don’t talk of such things quite so directly, Princess.”

“He was attracted to my sister Beth, who did not return his regard. I do not know if he will feel the same for Wylla, or she for him, but if you wish it I will be happy to take him to Bear Island and allow things to develop as they will.”

“Thank you. That’s all I could hope for.”

It struck me that I could probably, with Tansy’s help, devise some intrigue to marry Devan Seaworth to our youngest sister, Lyanna, and thereby rid Bear Island of the unpleasant girl. I dismissed this thought as unkind, even as I saw Lyra glare at me from the forward end of the boat.

“Not long ago,” I said to Lord Davos, “you would not have been tempted to marry your son to a high noble’s daughter.”

“You’ve the right of that,” he said. “But he must have a high-born wife if he’s to hold Winterfell after me. Otherwise he’ll not be respected. I’d rather he marry for love, as I did, but that’s not the life I’ve given him. Wylla seems a fine girl and it would please me for Devan to find both love and station in his marriage.”

“You are a good father,” I said. My own father, Mors Kajak, had opposed my marriage to John Carter, calling the man from Jasoom a bloodthirsty barbarian unfit to wed me. I should have listened to my father; like Davos Seaworth, he loved his child and wished her to be happy.

“No,” Davos answered, and I felt great sadness in his thoughts. “I was a terrible father. I took four of my boys to war alongside Stannis. All four of them died on the Blackwater.”

“The Blackwater?”

“A naval battle outside King’s Landing,” he explained. “The Imp, Tyrion Lannister, used wildfire against our ships. My boys died with their flesh melting off their bones.”

“I killed Tyrion Lannister.”

“So you did, and I never thanked you for it; it seemed petty to do so at the time. But I was glad to see your sword go into his heart all the same.”

“I do not know why I killed him,” I said. “Lord Reed and Samwell Tarly had been slain, and the little man’s constant chatter annoyed me. So I silenced him.”

Davos thought me odd, and cold, yet loved me all the same.

“I failed to do right by my first four boys,” he returned to the topic. “So I’d like to fix that with the three I have left to me.”

“You know that I will help you however I can,” I said. “You only need ask.”

“You’re a good person, Princess,” he said. “Far better than you allow yourself to believe.”

“As are you.”

* * *

The riverboat had no space for sleeping or even for eating; the crew pulled to the bank for meals which we ate sitting on the ground. At night we camped in tents, and I slept soundly surrounded by my sisters and my friend Gilly while the Mormont soldiers stood watch. I could tell that both Dacey and Beth enjoyed far less disturbing dreams than those that usually troubled their nights.

I felt much stronger, partly from the time I had had to heal, and partly from my joy at returning home. I watched the riverbanks pass by, or lay on the deck and looked upward at the blue sky dotted with clouds – I found that my eyes had much greater tolerance for bright sunlight than those of my sisters, a product of my home world’s thinner atmosphere and harsher light. The captain and crew even indulged us by waiting for us to complete our exercises before setting out each morning; the rowers enjoyed watching us.

Eager to begin her training, Wylla Manderly joined our exercises. Jory showed her the movements and she adapted to them quickly. I would need to study her body more closely when we began training but she appeared very thin and weak under her multiple layers of heavy clothing; when we reached Bear Island I would ask Pia to make several sets of close-fitting leggings and tunics similar to ours but in the greenish-blue color of House Manderly. I doubted that she would have the physical strength to wield a sword, but I had agreed to train her and would tackle this problem when the time came.

On the afternoon of the fourth day we reached the landing place, a small settlement with storage buildings for goods being trans-shipped between wagon trains and riverboats, an inn and a very large stable. Tansy wished to inspect the facilities before we left, in case there might be opportunities for House Mormont to invest here, so we dined at the inn and spent the night there before riding out at first light.

It pleased me to see that Wylla Manderly rode in normal fashion, and quite well. Her thoughts revealed a great deal of excitement, and also anxiety. She found my sister Beth Cassel particularly intimidating, but became nervous around any of us. My easiness around Gilly disturbed her, as she believed that a princess should not befriend a wildling, but she found our habit of sleeping together in a mass of semi-naked female flesh even stranger. She feared that she would be expected to join us.

Ser Marlon chose and saddled a horse as well, which surprised me.

“I’m to be Lady Wylla’s sworn sword,” he said, riding beside me along the unpaved road leading to Winterfell. “It’s traditional, when a young lady abides at another castle, for her family to assign a trusted knight as her protector.”

“She is not well protected among the Mormonts?”

“It’s not only for protection against enemies with swords and spears.”

“You will be present to assure that she does not have sex with Devan Seaworth until they are married.”

The white-haired knight let out a burst of involuntary laughter.

“My apologies, princess,” he said, “but you do strike to the heart of things. My lord cousin has full faith in Lady Maege and Lady Tansy to see that all proprieties are observed, as do I. But if we didn’t send a sworn sword, then the next time a lady of our house traveled with one, that host might take offense.”

“I understand,” I said. “Though I believed you had duties as guard commander for House Manderly.”

“At my age, I’ll have to give that up soon enough,” he said. “My fat liege will wish to know when you’re fully healed, of course, and I’m to act as his spy in that regard. For myself, I wished to see the training first-hand and perhaps learn a few things, if you’re willing.”

“You have been a good friend to me and to my family, and are always welcome. You understand that we will expect Wylla to follow the Mormont Way and work as we do.”

“What sort of work?”

“Labor of all sorts. I have washed dishes, hauled refuse and repaired the roof of Mormont Keep.”

“Then I shall do the same. If it’s good enough for a princess, it’s good enough for me. I expect that Lady Wylla will have no problem following your example, but I’ll speak with her if she gives you any trouble.”

“Thank you,” I said. “It was very strange for me at first, but I have come to value my small contribution.”

“You gave me the honor of fighting with you at the Twins,” he said. “You even altered your plans to be sure we could participate. I’ll not forget that easily.”

“It is no kindness, to involve others in killing.”

“No,” he said, “I suppose not. But when I die, not too many years from now, I’ll do so at peace. And I have you to thank.”

“I was glad to have you and your men there,” I said. “I hope that our island life is not too tedious, compared to White Harbor.”

I looked forward at our little procession; Wylla made a tentative approach to speak with Jory, riding alongside my little sister just behind the two Mormont soldiers leading us and not coincidentally, I was sure, at the opposite end of our column from Beth and Gilly. Behind Jory, Lyra rode without assistance, chattering with Alysane and Dacey on either side of her while Melly kept watch on them. Tansy and Galbart Glover concocted a scheme to improve the road between Deepwood Port and the small riverside freight station we had just departed. Behind me, Maege and Davos rode along in companionable silence, while just ahead of the rear guard Gilly informed Beth of the island’s most recent gossip.

“A fine family you’ve found here, princess,” he said. “I’m sure I’ll be happy to walk among them.”

“We will train intensively,” I said. “I must restore my skills, as do my sisters Lyra and Dacey.”

“I probably can’t match your pace,” he said. “But I’ll be happy to watch and learn. Do you plan to carry the second Frey castle?”

He had wondered this ever since retrieving us from Saltpans and had hoped for an opportunity to ask me about it.

“My adoptive mother has decided that burning one castle and executing their king was enough. Should she change her mind, I will follow her wishes.”

“I understand. You’re sworn to her service.”

“I swore no oaths,” I said, “of any type. She adopted me as her daughter, and loves me as such. I am bound by love, not obligation.”

“Even stronger, then.”

“Just so.”

* * *

I had not traveled this road before, and found it a fairly easy ride – we slept in large inns each night, in soft beds. My lovers and I received our own chambers, and so we had the opportunity to receive orgasm. Each time I blocked my connection with Lyra lest she suffer embarrassment.

As we rode, Lord Davos pointed out how the road had been repaired and paved with gravel, and the inns and stables repaired and expanded.

“I’ll be happy to have Lady Tansy back on Bear Island,” he said. “It’s a time when trade grows and the land heals. Mormont gold is welcome here.”

“We have little gold.”

“You be sure to keep saying that,” he smiled. “And I’ll be sure to keep pretending to believe you.”

While it pleased me to see the economy recover and develop, I knew that John Carter brought an even greater danger to Westeros than his hordes of raping Dothraki and murderous mercenaries. His planet had developed industry based on the burning of ancient carbon deposits, releasing massive amounts of pollution into the skies. At the scale he had proudly described, I foresaw a planet-wide catastrophe overtaking Jasoom in no more than two centuries – less than a quarter of my lifespan.

Similar disregard had ruined Barsoom’s atmosphere in ancient times, leaving my planet dependent on massive mechanical works to maintain its ever-thinning atmosphere. As Regent of the Royal Academy of Science, I knew what few outside the government did: our planet was dying, and we would be unlikely to save it. Our intervention had preserved life on Barsoom longer than had seemed possible, but the damage had been irretrievable.

Was this the true reason I had been delivered to this planet, to prevent John Carter from unleashing his so-called “industrial revolution” and ultimately wiping out all higher life? I did not know for sure that his plans involved the massive burning of coal and petroleum, but I knew my husband. He had suggested such to my grandfather, who had gently reminded him that we had far more effective sources of energy whose use did not threaten a planet-wide extinction.

I became resolved. Not only would I kill John Carter, but I would find some means to prevent industrialization taking hold on this planet. Somehow, the carbon-burning stage of technological development would have to be by-passed. I had seen signs that this planet had once known much greater technology than these people now possessed. It suddenly struck me that the maesters, who had obviously taken steps to retard this planet’s scientific progress, might be working to prevent it from being re-established, perhaps for the same reasons.

* * *

The sight of Winterfell’s vast bulk warmed me, for it meant that we would soon be home. And I had become fond of the huge castle in its own right, despite its connection in my mind with the deaths of my friends Sansa Stark, Samwell Tarly and Howland Reed, and Melisandre’s attempt to warp my sexual desires and murder me.

Marya Seaworth greeted us in the courtyard, accompanied by Devan and her two younger sons. Davos embraced her, and then each of the boys.

“As soon as the horses are settled,” he told her, “we must speak with the princess. Devan as well.”

First came introductions, of Dacey, Wylla and Ser Marlon. Marya cried as she embraced Maege.

“I’m so sorry” she said. “You have your eldest back, and it should be a joyous day. Instead I can’t but think of my own eldest, lost forever.”

I had not been aware that Maege and Marya Seaworth had become friends; people regularly develop relationships out of our sight. They went off together with Alysane, while Lyra and Jory tended to the horses. Another surprise came when Beth offered to show Winterfell to Wylla and Ser Marlon.

With Dacey and Tansy, I accompanied Davos and his son to the castle’s solar, to discuss his training on Bear Island. The younger Seaworth greeted Dacey with awe.

“Lady Dacey,” he said, bowing over her hand and kissing it. “You fought in the Royal Guard. Rode alongside King Robb.”

“And nearly died alongside him,” she said, but she smiled. “If not for my sister Dejah, I’d still be dead.”

Dacey had regained most of the weight lost in captivity, giving her a figure much like mine or Lyra’s, only taller. Melly had colored the gray streaks in Dacey’s hair with black walnut juice; through Devan’s eyes my newest sister was quite beautiful and I had to agree. He hoped to become her squire, but Davos dashed that dream as soon as we had all taken seats around his conference table.

“You know why we’re here, son,” he said. “Princess Dejah agreed some time back to take you on for training, and that time’s come.”

“I’m to squire for the princess or Lady Dacey?”

“There are no squires on Bear Island,” Dacey said, “since we don’t keep the Seven and we’ve had unfortunate experiences with knighthood. You’ll train alongside our other guest, Lady Wylla Manderly, and work as we do. I’ll be training as well.”

“You? The heir?”

“I was the heir,” she said. “I renounced that and now I’m a younger sister, just like Princess Dejah.”

I had not been aware of this, but it explained the lack of tension between Alysane and Dacey.

“I trained for years,” she continued, “fought with King Robb, and truly believed myself a great warrior. Then I saw what training with Dejah Thoris had done for my sister Lyra. I want that. So I’ll be training like a raw girl straight off the farm.”

“What do I have to do?” Devan asked.

“You’ll be a guest of House Mormont,” Tansy said. “A guest sworn to obey the orders of Lady Mormont, Princess Dejah the House Guard commander, her officers, and myself as Lady Mormont’s Hand. Like all of us, you’ll perform tasks as assigned, sometimes including menial work and hard labor. But mostly you’ll train at swords and such.”

“So I’m to be a Guardsman?”

“For six months,” Davos said. “It’s the closest thing in the North to squiring.”

“You wished to be a superior swordsman,” I said. “I will do my best to make this so. As my sister says, everyone works. One cannot know how to lead until one knows how to follow.”

“The princess has the right of it,” Davos said. “No one can just step in and start giving orders. You need to know what those orders mean, how your men feel about their leader.”

“King Stannis never served in the ranks,” Devan countered. “You still revere him as a leader of men.”

“Aye,” his father said. “And I packed his bones myself to send them back to Storm’s End, after he died alone by his own hand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next episode of AO3's least-loved story, it's the Night of the She-Bears.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Beth Cassel refuses to dance.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Lord Davos wished to give a formal dinner to welcome Dacey Mormont back to the North, and celebrate our return. The actual cause, the destruction of Walder Frey’s castle and most of his family, went unspoken but all present understood. The hosting of such an event attended by many lords also helped acknowledge and reinforce his position as Lord of Winterfell, so I was happy to attend and wear my lovely purple gown.

My sisters, adoptive mother and lady-in-waiting went through Sansa Stark’s large collection of gowns to find proper evening wear for themselves; Lyra, Beth, Tansy and I wore the gowns we had picked out on previous visits. Gilly did not wish to wear a gown, but went along when I insisted. She was a beautiful young woman when cleaned and dressed, and I wanted her to be seen as the full equal of any Mormont.

“Sam’s family made me wear one of these,” she said as Tansy pressed a gown against her. “I could barely move in it, and they laughed at me.”

“No one will laugh at you,” said Beth, in a conversational tone. “Or I’ll open their throat.”

“They made you wear the shoes, too, didn’t they?” Tansy asked. Gilly nodded. “It’s not so bad if you wear flats. I’ll help you.”

“And this, this thing,” she said, pressing her hands against her abdomen, “that squashed my guts up into my tits.”

Tansy laughed, poking Gilly in the side with one finger.

“It’s called a corset, and you’ve no need of one. No one does, truth be spoken. It’s an evil device of torture.”

“That’s good,” Maege said. “You’re my daughters’ lady-in-waiting, Gilly. Having honor done to you honors us all.”

“I’m just a servant.”

“That’s not true,” Maege said, taking a sharp tone. “They call a servant a ‘handmaiden.’ Sometimes a ‘bedmaid.’ Jeyne doesn’t make mistakes. She named you lady-in-waiting, and that ‘lady’ part’s there for a reason. Ladies-in-waiting come from one noble house to another. You were a lord’s wife, now a hero’s widow, and you come by the position by right.”

Gilly smiled at her.

“You’re too good to me, Lady Mormont.”

“No more than you deserve.”

Maege helped Tansy dress Gilly in a dark red gown, the only one in Sansa’s collection small enough to fit my friend easily. Dacey’s height proved more difficult.

“I’m not used to this sort of thing,” Tansy said. “Making Gilly’s skirt shorter was easy enough, but longer takes more skill. You’ve worn gowns before?”

“No,” Dacey said. “I wore my Mormont blacks when the occasion demanded, and pretended it was due to my fierce warrior nature.”

“You wanted a gown?” Tansy asked.

“Of course I did,” she said. “You never dreamed of being a princess?”

“Constantly,” Tansy said. “Then my . . . father’s true-born daughter informed me what ‘bastard’ meant.”

“I never liked her,” Maege said. “Catelyn Stark. It should tell you a great deal about her character that she had no ladies-in-waiting, no women friends of any sort as far as I know.

“Women need other women. Catelyn forgot that, if she ever knew it, and it destroyed her family and took the lives of uncounted thousands more. Nothing’s made me happier than to see my daughters, true-born and adopted, love and support one another as you do.”

“Truly?” I asked. “No female friends or companions?”

“None,” Dacey confirmed. “She didn’t have any more use for advice from men, either. She kept her own foolish counsel and did her best to force it on her son. Mother and I rode with her for a time, with King Robb’s army.”

“It was the same before the war,” Maege said. “I have to think that another grown woman, or better yet two or three, might have talked her out of some of her more stupid decisions.”

I found this astonishing, but as Maege had said, it went far to explain the idiotic actions of Catelyn Stark. I would have been bereft without Thuvia before my departure from Barsoom, and for the first time since my arrival here I wondered what my disappearance had meant for my sister. I had loved her as much as I did Tansy or Lyra, and she felt the same for me. And then without explanation I had vanished.

Suddenly, I felt sadness, longing and shame. Thuvia had loved me as deeply as I had loved her, and I had cast her aside to seek out John Carter, who did not love me. Would I do the same to my sisters here, when it suited me?

Unaware that my mind had wandered, Maege sighed and continued to speak of Catelyn Stark.

“What’s done is done, and we shan’t repeat her errors. We’ll make new ones instead. Now you all have a real princess for a sister.”

“So, Princess,” Dacey asked me. “What did you wear on formal occasions?”

“A circlet about my head,” I said, miming where each piece went. “With hair hanging loose swept back underneath it. A jeweled belt, arm rings, and sometimes high leather boots. Ceremonial weapons at either hip.”

“Bare-breasted?” Maege asked, smiling.

“Of course,” I said. “The perfect breast is a sign of royal breeding.”

“Despite Dacey’s perfect breasts, I think we should stick with Westerosi fashion tonight. Have you any ideas for Dacey?”

“Lady Jonelle is here,” I said. “Perhaps she has a maid with these skills.”

“Perfect,” Beth said. “I’ll go and see.”

My own purple gown hung somewhat loosely; I had lost weight following my injury. Beth returned with Lady Jonelle Cerwyn herself and two other women, and I sat quietly with Gilly watching the experienced maids help Maege and my sisters dress Dacey in dark blue. The clothing rituals meant little to either of us, but we both understood that these were very important to the interactions of upper-class women in these lands.

“It bothers you,” Gilly asked in a soft voice, “don’t it?”

“What bothers me?”

“That scar. You think you’re not beautiful no more.”

“I thought only Lyra could read my thoughts, and sometimes Beth.”

“Don’t take much to suss it out. You got great tits and has always been proud of them. You shouldn’t slump over like you’s ’shamed. You got that scar fighting to save us all.”

Gilly had complete faith in my heroic nature, far more than I did myself, and had come to know me well. John Carter had left an ugly scar at the very place the standards of Barsoom considered central to a woman’s beauty, the valley between her breasts. I had healed to a great extent, and could feel my strength returning, but the damage to my self-confidence remained.

Dressing all nine women took some time, with a great deal of laughter and chatter slowing the process. Finally the time came for dinner, and we trooped down to Winterfell’s great hall two-by-two, with Maege and Lady Jonelle leading the procession.

* * *

Lady Marya Seaworth had sent invitations to all of the nearby noble houses as soon as the ravens brought word of our pending return to the North. Some castles lay much too far away for their rulers to attend, but all of those within ten days’ travel or less had sent at least a few representatives. Except for House Dustin; Lady Barbrey sent word that she was otherwise engaged.

I had not seen Winterfell’s great hall filled before, though the gathering was tiny compared to the state dinners of Helium. Dacey and Maege took places at the so-called “high table,” and I found that all of my remaining sisters and Gilly had been assigned to the same table on the floor level. That went against the usual customs of this land, but I enjoyed being with them on such a happy occasion.

Across the hall, the Winterfell soldiers Mollen and Quent caught my eye – I detected them thinking of me, but pretended to glance in their direction – and raised their flagons of ale. I raised mine in return, and smiled. They had not been allowed to join our assault on the Twins, but many of their friends had died in the massacre there and Beth had told them that I had personally killed Walder and Lothar.

Lord Davos said nothing of the destruction of Walder Frey’s castle and the slaughter of many Freys, instead confining his remarks to the return to the North of Dacey Mormont and a Northern lord named Jon Umber, who I had not met. Lord Umber was yet another gigantic man – these lands seemed to breed more of them than I expected – standing at least as tall as Sandor Clegane. He stood, nodded to me and returned to his seat. He apparently had once been loud and boisterous, but the knowledge of his family’s extermination by the Others left him greatly subdued. Dacey looked beautiful in her blue gown, the first time she had ever worn such clothing, and seemed very happy.

The dinner included multiple courses, all of which I had sampled before. I followed Tansy’s instructions and stopped myself before I consumed large portions. After the meal had concluded, some of the Winterfell soldiers cleared the floor of the hall for dancing, while the other attendees circulated about and gossiped while consuming more wine, ale or coffee.

I noted that many guests – lords, minor nobles and their wives – came to offer Dacey their congratulations. Most of my sisters took turns dancing, and I stood with Beth Cassel to watch them. Dacey spun her skirts as she danced with a young lord named Tallhart, her thoughts revealing joy at her regained freedom.

I recognized Lord Woods, who had saved us from the winter storm on the road to Deepwood Motte, making his way through the crowd to speak with us.

“Princess,” he said, kissing my hand and that of my secret mistress. “Lady Beth. I am so glad to see you both well. Is it true that Lady Asha . . .”

“She fell in battle,” I said. “Fulfilling her oath, which meant a great deal to her.”

“It pains me to hear that,” he said. “I hope it came swiftly.”

“She died so that I might live,” Beth said. “She knowingly stepped in front of crossbow bolts aimed at my back.”

“Then she died well,” Lord Woods said. “May you live well.”

He bowed and left us.

“He didn’t ask either of us to dance,” Beth said.

“He has guessed,” I said. “About you and I.”

“Is he a danger?”

“I do not think so,” I said. “He fears our swords, and has turned his attention to our little sister.”

Jory had joined the young noble among the dancers; she considered whether she wished sex with him afterwards. I caught a flash of Dacey pondering a similar idea as she whirled in Galbart Glover’s embrace.

“It’s their decision,” said Beth, who had followed my thoughts. “I know it’s hard for you. I’ll be glad to distract you if it would help.”

Soon I took my own turn dancing with Lord Glover. He tried to keep his eyes from my scar, yet it did not seem to deter him from fantasizing taking my breasts in his hands as he pondered whether he desired me more than he did my sister Dacey, or whether he should finally summon the courage to find a male sexual companion. He kissed my hand when we finished, and I smiled rather than perform the idiotic “curtsey” move in return.

Alysane had joined Beth, who had become uneasy in my absence. My secret mistress feared that a man would ask her to dance.

“You have danced in the past,” I said. “You do not wish to now?”

“You know that dancing is just a trial run for sex,” she said. “I’m fine with dancing, it’s thinking about that second part that jangles my nerves.”

“Then you won’t like what I have to say,” Alysane said. “It’s the Night of the She-Bear, when all the Mormont women take their pleasure. Dacey, Lyra, Jory, Gilly and I are all in. What about you two?”

Beth grew uneasy, and involuntarily moved closer to me.

“Do I wish to have a man inside me?” I asked for confirmation.

“That’s the general idea, yes.”

“I am not physically the same as you,” I said. “I would not wish to disappoint a partner. And I would not leave Beth alone.”

“Fair enough,” Alysane said. “Tansy said she was undecided.”

“What of Lady Wylla?” Beth asked.

“I don’t think she’s ever even seen herself naked,” Alysane said. “Don’t either of you dare breathe of word of this to her.”

Alysane soon left us to dance again. Beth seemed upset.

“Are you not bothered by this?” she asked. “Will Dacey do something insane?”

“Possibly,” I said. “A few moments ago you did not seem disturbed.”

“That was before Aly asked me to spread my legs for some stranger. I’ve been passed around like a dessert before. Never again.”

“She only asked your wishes,” I said. “As you said, we are all adult women capable of making choices.”

“Even if it includes Tansy?”

“It is her choice,” I said. “She has enjoyed a man inside her in the past and may wish to feel this again. Whatever she chooses, I intend to finish this night by sharing orgasm with you.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I do not either,” I admitted. “But you know the Mormont Way. We of the ruling family cannot have sex with men of the island. That leaves few opportunities for our sisters to have a man inside them.”

“It just seems like something horny young men would do. Alysane even gave it a name.”

“Women can be horny as well. I have known you to be so.”

“The only thing I want inside me is a long, blue tongue.”

Tansy soon joined us, having just danced with a man I did not know. Her face was flushed and she smiled broadly.

“Why the sour looks from you two?” she asked us.

“Will you participate,” I asked, “in the Night of the She-Bear?”

“No,” she said. “Those are days are part of the past now.”

“You do not need our permission,” I said, “if you need a man inside you.”

“Everything I want,” she said, “Everyone I want, is standing right here.”

She shoved her cup of ale into my hand, took Beth’s face in both of her hands and kissed her soundly. The few people who saw politely looked away.

“Tonight,” she told her, “This castle echoes with the wild screams of Mormont women. I intend to hear yours among them.”

Tansy retrieved her drink and walked away, letting her hips sway slightly as she did so. I felt Lyra approach even as she departed.

“Alysane told you,” she said. I nodded. “You’re not upset?”

“You can feel my jealousy,” I said. “I cannot pretend otherwise. But you know that I wish you to be happy.”

“It’s been so long,” she said. “These last months, even Jory’s had it more often than I.”

“You feel strong enough?” Beth asked.

“I think so,” Lyra said. “None of the important parts got stabbed.”

“Enjoy yourself,” I said. “I shall do the same, and block our connection.”

* * *

As Tansy promised, she made Beth scream, though I kept her mouth covered with mine as she attempted to give voice to her climax. I received orgasm twice through Tansy and three times through Beth. Somewhere in the castle, a man was inserting his sex organ into Lyra, yet I almost forgot my jealousy and even forgot to worry over Jory.

Beth was stoking the fire for the night when Gilly tapped softly at our door. She entered wearing her “shift” and carrying her red gown over her arm. She put the gown away, unwilling to leave it to be wrinkled, and pulled off her shift to nestle between Tansy and I. Like Lyra, she had become used to nudity when among us.

“He called me ‘my lady’,” she said, giggling. “Not ‘milady’.”

“You enjoyed it?” I asked.

“I always enjoys it,” she answered. “I wish you could.”

I had wondered if I could enjoy sex between a man and a woman through another woman’s thoughts, but I did not want to intrude uninvited and it seemed perverse to do so with permission. Perhaps if I participated in multi-partner sex with a man and at least one other woman it would be possible.

“I have enjoyed myself very much,” I told Gilly instead. “I am glad you are satisfied.”

“You’ll not tell Gendry?”

“‘Princess’ means ‘keeper-of-secrets’.”

It troubled me that my friend thought it necessary to shield her sexual activities from Gendry. I hoped they had not become romantically entangled.

Jory joined us shortly afterwards, followed by Alysane, Lyra and finally Dacey, who dramatically raised her arms, spun slowly in a circle and fell onto the bed on top of us with a loud moan. Tansy happily questioned each of them as they returned. All except Lyra had received orgasm; Dacey claimed to have done so twice and I did not probe her mind to determine the truth. None had felt uncomfortable or in danger.

“I’m your little sister,” Jory said to me. “Everyone knows what you’d do to anyone who harmed me.”

It amused me, but did not surprise me, to find that Gilly had been far more sexually aggressive than my sisters. She did not face the same restrictions as the Mormont family, and enjoyed herself regularly on Bear Island. Under Tansy’s laughing questions she finally admitted to receiving orgasm three times.

“When you got what he wants,” she explained, “it’s not hard to make him give you what you wants.”

Laughing, Dacey wrapped Gilly in her arms and kissed the top of her head.

“I should have known I was half wildling all along,” she said. “Now it all makes sense.”

“Free Folk,” Gilly muttered.

“Free Folk,” Dacey agreed. “Except when we’re fucking. Then we’re wild.”

She turned to me.

“I saw him looking at you,” she said, “while you danced with him. You should have come along. We could have doubled up on him, made it the finest night of his life.”

Had I agreed would I have been able to receive orgasm? Dacey obviously would be willing to participate in such an experiment, but that was a question for another day.

“I am sure you made it such by yourself.”

“That I did.”

She became more serious, and spoke softly so that only I could hear.

“I wasn’t sure I could do anything. I’m just relieved that it happened at all.”

Lyra snuggled against me, silently asking me not to be jealous. I could not hide that truth from her, or my unease that I had been far less jealous when I thought that Tansy might join Alysane’s game. When I felt all of our sisters slide into the brain rhythms of deep sleep, and Lyra detected that through me, she leaned over and kissed me.

“You know,” she whispered, “that what happened tonight doesn’t change my love for you.”

“I know,” I whispered back. “I love you, too.”

“I know.”

She looked up at me. The firelight glinted off the golden flecks in her eyes. I wanted to kiss her again, this time sexually, and felt shame that she knew of my desire.

“You loved the sister you left at home as well. You thought of her earlier.”

“I did,” I said. “I still love her. I think of her far less often than I should, but when I do, the lack of her thoughts in my mind is painful.”

“Do you wish to return home, to her?” Lyra could not pronounce Thuvia’s name, for I thought of her in our language rather than Lyra’s. She feared that I preferred Thuvia to her.

“Thuvia,” I said. “Thuvia of Ptarth.”

I blinked back tears. I remembered the trill in her voice, her jet-black eyes, the touch of her lips on my breast, our tongues wrapped around one another. In that moment, it seemed I need only awaken from some strange dream and Thuvia would be there. But this was no dream, and a woman I loved just as deeply awaited an answer.

“I would never willingly leave without you,” I said. “But I feel incomplete without all of my sisters. It is not a matter of preferring one to another. If I had my wishes, she would be here with us.”

But then what of her husband, my son Carthoris? And the others who loved her? We live in a network of personal connections; one such relationship cannot be altered without altering many others as well. And would she accept my new sisters, not even of our species, as her own?

“I wish I could meet her,” Lyra said. “It’s selfish, but I’m happy you’re here with me instead. With us.”

“I love you both,” I said. “The separation pains me, but it was not my choice. I am glad that I did not have to choose between you.”

Lyra kissed me quickly then settled her head on my shoulder, her body pressed against mine. Gilly felt the movement in her sleep and pressed closer to me while Beth did the same on her opposite side. I felt very safe surrounded by them, a natural reaction among my people. On Barsoom, when Thuvia engaged in sex with others I had not given it any thought beyond a mild curiosity. I would have to address this jealousy I had somehow learned since my arrival. It was the most destructive force known on either planet.

* * *

We rode out two days later; Galbart Glover remained at Winterfell for discussions with Lord Davos, or so he claimed. He felt awkward around Dacey and had avoided her company.

“I told him, very clearly, it was just one night’s fun,” my newest sister told me as we rode. “It wasn’t even our first time, I rolled him years ago, but now he thinks he’s supposed to ask for my hand. Even though neither one of us seeks marriage.”

“If you laid eggs,” I said, “you would not have this problem.”

She leaned over and tapped the center of my chest.

“Your people have plenty of problems between men and women.”

“We only stab one another sometimes.”

One of the common laws of Barsoom held that a married couple could not engage in a duel with sword or pistol; first they must divorce. Like many laws, this likely had arisen because of need.

“You like Galbart Glover,” I said.

“I do,” Dacey confirmed. “I could do much worse. So could he, but I’ll have thirty years soon and he may want someone more fertile or from a more powerful House.”

“You are beautiful. And you are my sister.”

“Well, those are both strongly in my favor. I’m not sure I want him, though. Perhaps that’s the place for me, if I don’t have one on Bear Island. But first, I need to go home. As do you.”

“As do I.”

I wondered if I should tell her of Galbart Glover’s preference for men, but she had apparently been sexually satisfied by her night with the lord of Deepwood Motte and I did not feel it my place to intrude. Perhaps if she did plan to marry him I would need to inform her. Then I realized that Lyra would eventually detect my thoughts on the matter, and I could leave that decision to her. That was likely unfair, but I knew she would make a wiser choice than would I. I smiled and relaxed; Dacey assumed I was pleased to be returning home.

We stopped at the inn where my sisters’ lives had been saved during the winter storm. Maege thanked the innkeeper and his family profusely, gifting them with a sack of golden coins. Lyra pointed out the spot where we had abandoned our horses, and also that from whence I had carried her to the inn. The distance I had covered while carrying my sisters surprised me.

“Sometimes I forget how heroic you are,” Tansy said, smiling. “They really would have died without you.”

“Leaving Lyra to carry Beth was one of the hardest things I have done. I love my sisters.”

“I know you do. You saved me from pirates, a pack of angry women, a snarling bear and my undead niece. “

“And a cat.”

“Yes, that too.”

Robett and Sybelle Glover hosted us for only one night at Deepwood Motte, as we were eager to return to our island. They greeted Dacey warmly, but Lady Sybelle’s thoughts betrayed her relief that Galbart Glover had not returned with us. She still feared a marriage between her brother-by-law and one of my sisters and knew of his long-standing fondness for Dacey. I recalled Dacey’s words; perhaps Lady Sybelle had reason for concern.

Once again, Sybelle showed genuine pleasure in greeting Gilly, and seated my lady-in-waiting alongside her at Evening Meal. Few people seemed to have neutral feelings when encountering Gilly. The Glovers had heard a full accounting of the attack on the Twins from Galbart, and politely asked no questions but did compliment us on Dacey’s rescue.

We arrived at Deepwood Port late in the afternoon, where our ship awaited us. Tansy spent the last hours of daylight inspecting the new buildings under construction, and I walked with her along with Lyra. They both seemed pleased by what they saw; I simply enjoyed their company and paid little attention. We stayed overnight in the inn, and this time the innkeeper avoided giving offense.

* * *

As with the voyage to White Harbor, I had a much easier time aboard the ship thanks to my deepened connection with Lyra. I grew excited as I stood by Lyra and watched the central mountain of Bear Island rise from the horizon; I thought of how I should never have left my home. She nudged me with her elbow and nodded to where Dacey and Maege stood together at the forward end of the ship watching as well. We silently agreed that making our mother whole again had been worth our physical pain.

The harbormaster sent word to Mormont Keep as soon as our ship was sighted, and a small group awaited us at the pier. I picked up the thoughts of Gendry, Pia, Jeyne Poole and Tycho Nestoris along with our youngest sister Lyanna, our niece Jolie and Ralf the dog.

I had given no thought to Lord Tycho, the banker from the city of Braavos on the other side of the Narrow Sea, and almost as little to Asha Greyjoy, his lover. She had given her life to save that of my lover, Beth Cassel, and I had not even thought to mention her sacrifice in the brief summary of events I had presented to Maege.

Beth detected my thoughts, and my shame.

“Let me tell him,” she whispered. “I owe her that much.”

We climbed onto the pier along the walkway known as a gangplank. Gendry embraced me carefully, followed by Jeyne and even Pia. Ralf the dog stood on her hind legs, placed her front feet on Jory’s shoulders and licked my little sister’s face. She then came to each of us to be petted and assured of her status as a good dog. Lyanna eventually separated herself from Dacey and wrapped me tightly in her arms, the first time she had ever shown actual affection for me.

“You brought her back,” she said. “I don’t know how, but you brought her back. I’m sorry, so so sorry, for every cruel thing I ever said.”

“Lyra almost died because of me.”

“But she didn’t. And Dacey’s back. And it’s because you found her.”

Young Jolie Mormont broke away from her mother to hug me as well.

“Aunt Dejah,” she said, “they said you were hurt.”

“I was,” I said, “as was Lyra. But Melly has made us well.”

Jolie flung herself around Melly.

“About time someone noticed me,” our healer said, looking askance at me. “I’m still here, you know.”

Lyanna and Jolie returned to Dacey and my other sisters moved down the pier except for Beth, who laced her fingers between mine as we faced Tycho Nestoris.

“Asha?” he asked. The Mormont soldiers and others who had already returned to the island had claimed to be unaware of her fate, but he had suspected that they lied.

I shook my head.

He looked down at the wooden planks of the pier, but she was not to be found there, either.

“She died in the Twins,” Beth said. “She put herself in front of crossbow bolts aimed for my back. She gave her life for mine.”

“You don’t have to create a story,” he said. “I knew who and what she was.”

“It is the truth,” I said. “And to my shame. I had to choose to protect Beth or Lyra, and I stood in front of Lyra, leaving Beth Cassel unprotected. Your lover gave her life to save mine. It is a debt I can never repay.”

He looked up at me, startled by my admission.

“It is a moment for truths,” I said. “And nothing you did not know already.”

He looked at our entwined hands, and nodded silently.

“She kept her oath,” said Beth, both embarrassed and pleased by my admission. “I never liked her. I was cruel to her.”

“She was Iron Born,” Tycho said. “Your dislike only amused her. She knew she would earn your respect eventually.”

“She did,” Beth said. “But only after her death.”

“What is dead can never die,” he finally smiled. “I think I only understand that now.”

* * *

I walked with Gendry to the forge after all greetings were complete. He showed me how he hoped to expand the small operation, if Tansy could find one or two more blacksmiths plus additional helpers. I reasoned that small-scale craft work would not destroy the planet’s atmosphere, and agreed that Bear Island had need of iron and steel tools, fittings and other items.

“I feared you’d not make it back,” he said. “It’s good you weren’t alone.”

“I would be dead,” I agreed, “were it not for my sister Beth Cassel.”

“She’s dangerous, you were right about that. Did I see more of you with Valyrian blades?”

“Yes. I took one from a mercenary who thought he could murder me and collect a reward. Beth wields it now, and we gave her former sword to Dacey as it is more suited to her height. Beth took another from John Carter, and gifted it to Jory. I am sure both will want you to modify the swords.”

“I look forward to it,” he said. “Five Valyrian blades in one House. That has to be the most in Westeros.”

“The king seemed to have many more,” I said, recalling Cersei’s thoughts about her daggers. “But those are not in use.”

“I want to marry Jeyne,” he blurted out, as I had expected for some time.

“And Gilly?” I asked. His face flushed red.

“She told you.”

“How many women have wished sex with you since your return from the Twins?”

“Six so far.”

He had made love to all six, including Pia, Gilly and Jennifer the master of horses. That last surprised me; I had spoken to her rarely but knew the lean, wind-burned woman to be some years older than Maege. She had demanded his presence in her bed and he had reluctantly complied. I had learned that some women fantasized about much younger lovers, but it seemed to be disapproved in practice.

“Gendry,” I said, “in my lands, this would not be a problem. In these lands, it is very much a problem. You know there are no bastards on Bear Island. But Jeyne will expect you to tend to her sexual needs alone.”

“Princess, I know that. But it’s hard to say no. Women on Bear Island aren’t like other women, the ones in other places. They say they want you and it just makes you feel so . .  . so much like a man. I like it. I like it a lot.”

“Jeyne is not interested in sharing.”

“I figured that much,” he said. “But she’s the woman I want to be with.”

I had been very fortunate; I had found two lovers who did not mind sharing, or at least tolerated doing so. Jealousy flared far more easily among these people than among mine, yet I had felt its power myself. My branch of humanity had the capacity for that destructive emotion as well, but it was seen as a mental illness.

I left Gendry to prepare for Evening Meal with my adoptive mother and sisters; we would hold a large-scale celebration for Dacey’s return and the destruction of the Freys in a few days, when chieftains, Shield Maidens and anyone else who wished to attend had had time to travel from the farther reaches of the island.

Dacey stood in the middle of the courtyard with Alysane, silently staring up at the mountain.

“It really exists,” she said as I approached. “I wasn’t really sure I hadn’t dreamed it.”

“I often wonder this as well,” I said. “It now feels more like my home than my actual home city.”

“That’s because it is,” Dacey said. “I thought it would seem odd for you to be here, a part of my family, but I think it all would have seemed empty without you.”

“Thank you for sharing it with me.”

I knew that Dacey’s emotions had swung to affection at the moment, yet her acceptance still meant a great deal to me. I had found another sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lack of readers will not stop me! In our next episode, Dejah Thoris trains new apprentices.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris bonds with her newest sister.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jeyne Poole had begun preparing for a feast as soon as Maege and Alysane left the island to greet us in White Harbor. And that meant that everyone in the Keep had to prepare as well.

“You’re a lord now,” Tansy told my surrogate son as Pia adjusted the formal clothing she had made for him, recalling his nude form as she worked and touching him perhaps more than was necessary. “You must dress as one.”

“I don’t see you wearing a gown,” Gendry retorted, glancing at Tansy’s Mormont black. “Why do lords choose to dress so, so uselessly?”

I had to agree; like my own son Carthoris, Gendry had broad well-muscled shoulders, a flat hard abdomen, a narrow waist and well-shaped legs. He was a beautiful young man, similar to John Carter, and all of those fine attributes were buried under layers of cloth and lace. On Barsoom he would have been nearly nude, and thus properly admired.

“That’s the point,” my sister broke my reverie. “No one could work in such garb. You dress this way, you prove that you’re above any sort of toil.”

The advanced economy of Barsoom had inverted that equation. The idle rich of Barsoom had muscular physiques like that of Gendry, which they acquired by exercising in expensive private gymnasia. A firm body broadcast leisure and, therefore, wealth. Few working people of Barsoom actually toiled with their bodies; rather, they directed machines from work stations where they sat for most of the day, growing fat around their middles and particularly in their asses.

“I’m with Lady Mormont on this,” Gendry said. “Everyone should work, lord or no.”

When feasting time arrived I sat at the main table, on Maege’s left with Dacey on her right. My other sisters filled out the table, along with Gilly, Jeyne, Gendry, my niece Jolie Mormont and Lord Tycho. Beth, Lyra, Dacey and I all wore new two-piece black outfits Pia had made for us, with a skintight black upper segment, a short, flared black skirt and green sashes and capes. Somewhere she had found a cobbler to make thigh-high boots of soft doeskin, similar to those I had worn at home. Like Tansy, the rest of the adult female Mormonts wore tight-fitting black tunics and leggings with bears on their surcoats.

“I thought you said,” Dacey pretended to be cross with me, “that you wore next to nothing in your home city.”

“That is correct.”

“This bizarre style of dress is not from Barsoom?”

“No,” I said. “The pirate queen Taena Merryweather wore something very much like it, but in red with a black sash. I thought it beautiful and desperately wanted to strip it off her corpse and wear it but when I killed her, my dagger tore the fabric and her blood stained it.”

“And that’s what I get for asking,” Dacey smiled. “I feel slightly ridiculous. I have to keep watch on the sash so my scar’s covered.”

“You did not have to wear it.”

“No, no,” she said. “I’ll not exhibit less flesh than you, not when we’re both on display. If Dejah goes naked, Dacey goes naked.”

Maege stood, and laid a hand on each of our shoulders. The hall had been filled to overflowing, and the people now quieted to hear her speak. My adoptive mother did not like speaking in public, but strong emotion overcame her reluctance. She spoke movingly of her despair at losing Dacey, and how her eldest child had miraculously returned.

Turning to me, she took both of my hands and pulled me to my feet.

“Dejah Thoris of House Mormont,” she said. “My daughter. You returned Dacey to us, and you destroyed House Frey. Our island and people are whole again, because of you.”

She took me into her arms while the people cheered.

“On my order,” she told the hall, “your princess executed Walder Frey for his crimes, and his son Lothar who planned the Red Wedding. We cannot bring back those lost, but we have exacted vengeance, and we have assured that House Frey shall never again bring such evil into being.”

I returned to my seat, and the massive platters of roasted meats, broiled sea creatures, freshly baked bread and steamed vegetables piled before us. I scanned the thoughts of the crowd; they loved me and my family without reservation. I knew the soldiers loved me, and that most of the people did as well. I had fought alongside them, I brought Dacey and the sword Longclaw back to them, and I had almost been killed fighting for their House, as they saw things. My well-known love for my adoptive mother only added to her authority; the whispers that I made love to other women only detracted slightly from it.

I had not realized that some still resented Maege as an interloper, who had come to rule by accident when her nephew Jorah fled the island. A woman could not be a lord, in their view. Now they saw a woman deliver the brutal justice they would have expected from a male lord, yet doubted could be exacted. Jeor Mormont had fled to the Wall, while his son fled to the East. Only Maege fulfilled the oath implicit in “Here We Stand,” remaining on the island and protecting its people to the best of her ability. There would be no further questioning of Maege Mormont’s right to rule, and none of Alysane after her.

* * *

Tansy soon became very busy, working with Tycho, Jeyne, Maege and Alysane to begin the work of rebuilding Mormont Keep in stone and arranging for all of the other projects they wished to undertake. I resumed my training regimen, determined to regain my strength and speed.

Our first morning of training began with the regular exercises, which Wylla had already learned and now Devan began. He thought them silly, but seeing Dacey perform them without comment he did so as well.

Tansy, Gilly and a few others who had joined the exercises left when we completed them, and I moved on to sword exercises, or at least the preliminary steps. I asked Devan to remove his tunic, and found the youth well-muscled though obviously still not fully mature. Ser Marlon did the same, and though his chest hair had turned white he retained a formidable physique with a number of scars marking his flesh. Lyra reminded me silently that I could not do the same with Wylla in front of men, and so first I tested my oldest and youngest students.

Devan Seaworth had had some training, in one of the formal styles. I would have to break him of the bad habits he had learned. He had good strength and excellent hand-to-eye coordination, though nowhere near the unusual talents of Beth Cassel. Ser Marlon remained well-coordinated, yet considerably slower than any of my sisters.

“You have done this before,” I commented as we went through an agility drill.

“No, princess,” he said. “But I can see the principles behind it. The building blocks of sword play?”

“Just so,” I said. “Please continue with my sisters Beth and Jory, while I test Lady Wylla and Dacey.”

I motioned to them to follow, and along with Lyra we entered the indoor practice area, which I had reserved for our group.

“Remove your tunic,” I said, “so I may test your reactions.”

Dacey peeled hers off, and flexed her arms above her shoulders.

“You have recovered well,” I said. “This was your physique before your capture?”

“Almost,” she said, touching her breasts. “I’ve got my tits back, pretty much, but I’m still weak in the arms and legs.”

She slapped her lower torso with both hands.

“No pain from the wound, no feeling in the scar at all. But I’m far too soft here. I take it we’ll be working on that?”

“We will,” I nodded. “Lady Wylla, if you would?”

“Must I?” she asked. “None but my handmaiden has ever . . . seen me.”

“We must,” I confirmed. “We are all women here. There is no cause for shame.”

I pulled off my own tunic, and Lyra did as well.

“You’re all so . . . big,” she said. “Mine are nothing like that.”

She had never seen even a semi-nude person before.

“You will wear a tunic during training,” I said. “And often a cloth wrapped about your breasts to keep them from painfully bouncing. But on this first day, I must test your reactions, and also evaluate your body strength.”

I turned to Lyra, to take a few moments to read Wylla’s thoughts. They were far too alarmed to be explained by simple body shame.

“You are better, sister?” I asked Lyra.

“You’ve seen already,” she said, running her hands down her flanks.

“I lost some muscle recovering from . . .  this,” she touched the scar over her left breast. “Most of what’s replaced it is fat, so we have some work to do on me as well. You look about the same as before you were hurt.”

Wylla gasped. She had not seen my scar before.

“As you know, John Carter wounded me with his sword,” I said. “But I am very hard to kill.”

“We’ve shown you ours,” Dacey said. “Now let’s see yours. Surely you have no scars like us. Odd birthmarks? Strangely-shaped tits?”

“Dacey,” I warned. “Wylla is not of Bear Island. You know women are raised far differently in the remainder of Westeros.”

“Apologies,” Dacey said. “But there’s nothing to fear. We shan’t laugh at you.”

“All right,” Wylla said, and she slowly removed her tunic. I knew that both of my sisters nearly gasped in surprise, but they controlled their reactions.

“Have you been ill?” Dacey finally said aloud.

“No,” Wylla said, softly.

“Do you not eat?”

She did not. When forced to do so, she stole away and vomited up what she had consumed. She was far thinner than I had imagined; one could see all of her ribs starkly raised against her stretched skin, while her abdomen was sunken and her breasts non-existent.

“You may put your tunic on again,” I said. “And you two as well. Let us go upstairs to my office.”

We walked silently up the stairs, as I sought something to tell the girl. Lyra’s thoughts showed equal confusion; neither of us had ever encountered someone deliberately starving themselves. Dacey likewise had no answer; her thoughts revealed resentment that someone would choose to go without food, when she had been tortured with its lack.

“Sit,” I told Wylla and my sisters, as I took my seat behind my desk.

“Wylla,” I began. “I need to know why this happened.”

“Why what happened?”

“You have deliberately starved yourself.”

“I value my health,” she said. “It’s not sound, to carry about too much fat.”

She thought of her family, all of them except her sister extremely fat.

“Do you think us fat?” I asked.

She hesitated, and finally whispered, “no.”

“Which means ‘yes,’” Dacey said. “You can tell us, truly, have you been ill?”

“No,” she said. She told the truth, as she understood it.

“You have done this deliberately?” I asked. “You avoid eating by choice?”

“No. It’s not by choice. I just . . . rarely wish to.”

She felt compelled to avoid food, and believed she had little choice in the matter. This would not be a simple matter of convincing her to eat by logic, emotional blackmail, or a direct order. Or even force-feeding.

“You could die from this,” I said. “Very easily.”

Her lack of breasts indicated that starvation had likely interfered with her hormone production. I did not know how to express this in their language, but Lyra picked up on the outline of my thoughts.

“How often,” she asked, “does your moon blood flow?”

“Is that not a private matter?” Wylla blushed. We had embarrassed her, but her thoughts showed Lyra’s suspicions to be on target. She bled rarely, perhaps one month out of three or four.

“It’s a question of health,” Lyra said. “We can’t let you train unless you’re healthy.”

“Truly, Princess, Lady Lyra, it is no great thing. I’m very healthy.”

“Wylla, no,” Lyra said, very gently. “Dejah and I are what a healthy woman looks like, round in breasts and hips. Dacey is still recovering from her capture, and even she’s still too thin.”

“It’s true,” Dacey said. “But I’ll have more curves soon enough.”

“We’re fighting women,” Lyra continued. “So we’re leaner than most. A truly fat person isn’t healthy, it’s true, but neither is one who’s too thin.”

“I cannot train you in this state,” I said. “Either of my younger sisters would break you into two pieces. My youngest sister or my niece, who do not even train, would injure you badly.”

“You’ve all much larger frames than I,” Wylla said. “It’s not a true comparison.”

“Wylla,” I said as gently as I could, pulling off my tunic and motioning for my sisters to do so as well. “Look at me again, at Lyra, and at Dacey. Each of us has fought in many battles, and we all bear the scars of what easily could have been deadly wounds.”

My sisters dressed again, but I continued speaking.

“It is true that each of us is much larger than most women of these lands. Combat is a test of strength. Speed can compensate for lesser strength, but it offers no help for one with no strength at all.”

“I came here to learn how to fight.”

“If I allowed you to fight in this condition,” I said, “you would die. I do not say that you risk death, but that it would be a certainty. You could easily die in training; you will have noticed that both Lyra and Dacey bear a number of fresh cuts and bruises.”

“I wanted to be like you,” Wylla spoke sharply. “My father, my grandfather, they respect you. I’ve heard them talk about you, you and your sisters. You’re a strong woman, and you fight. That’s what I want, to be the true heir of House Manderly, not married off to some boy who’ll sit me on the Merman Throne and rule in my name.”

“To demand the respect of others,” Lyra said, “one must respect oneself. Trying to starve your body doesn’t show much respect for yourself.”

“You’re the younger daughter,” Dacey said. “Your sister is the heir.”

“And she has no desire to rule. House Manderly must be ruled by a Manderly. You saw my uncle, the only male heir, slaughtered at the Red Wedding, Lady Dacey. We’ve held White Harbor for a thousand years. I won’t let that be extinguished.”

I sighed one of my best princess sighs.

“You cannot rule if you are dead,” I said. “And you are trying very hard to die.”

“Are you going to force me to eat?”

“If necessary,” I said. “You will take no meals alone, and one of us or Gilly will make sure that you do not vomit afterwards.”

“She is low-born. Worse, a _wildling_.”

“She is my lady-in-waiting, and my friend. You have sworn to obey those I designate, including Gilly.”

“I . . . I will try. But it’s just so, so _disgusting_. Food, and eating, that is. Not Lady Gilly, she’s very sweet and I was wrong to speak ill of her.”

“We will assist you as best we can,” I said. “We are not here to force you, but to help you. I hope that eventually you will not require assistance. Your decision to come to Bear Island, to train with us, shows a strong will. We will help you exert that will over your own body as well.”

On Barsoom one would never encounter such a problem; even among the weak telepaths of the common people such a disorder would be noticeable. Experts with strong telepathic skills would intervene to determine the cause of unhappiness long before it became a danger to a person’s health.

“I can ask the cooks to prepare your favorites,” Lyra said. “We want you to be well.”

“We do want Wylla to be well,” I said. “But please ask the cooks to serve her plain, tasteless food. As bland as they can create.”

“So it’s not noticeable,” Dacey said, slowly. “No strong tastes to react against.”

She smiled at me.

“You’re as smart as they said. But you should probably put your shirt on.”

* * *

As the days passed, I fell back into my prior routine at Mormont Keep, and I found a friendship growing with Dacey. I loved her as my sister. I suspected that feelings seeping through my bond with Lyra had influenced that, but now I genuinely liked her as well.

Dacey could be very difficult, as her emotions still erupted at inconvenient times in unpredictable ways. When I felt them rising I would speak a word of warning, or touch her hand, and she would nod and work to calm herself.

Dacey had trained to fight from horseback and had done so with Robb Stark’s Royal Guard. Now she showed me the basic styles. My mare had been trained for war; Dacey’s own war-horse had been lost at the Twins but two of the horses I had freed from the loathsome Yellow and Green Brotherhood men on my first day on this planet had also been trained. Dacey began to ride my large white horse in our exercises, and I gladly gifted him to her as he had formed a liking for this new rider.

“You see the value of the mace now?” she asked as we changed out of our dirty practice clothing. “Just ride past and smash things.”

“I do,” I said. “I still prefer the sword.”

“Whatever works.”

It was a women’s day at the bathhouse, so we walked up the mountainside and found one unoccupied tub. Again we stripped off our clothing, and slipped into the hot water.

“I have trained the House Guard since my arrival on the island,” I said. “All of them are foot soldiers, even the veteran men and women. How did you come to fight on horseback?”

“My cousin Jorah,” she said. “My uncle, the island’s Lord, wanted him raised and trained as a knight, and he took to it. King Robert himself knighted him during the Siege of Pyke. When he fled Ned Stark’s justice, he left behind his horses and a great deal of weapons and other gear. He also left behind the master-at-arms he’d imported, and since the master still wanted to be paid for the rest of his agreed year Mother said he could earn his coin by teaching me.”

“How old were you?”

“When Jorah left? Twenty. Put a sharp end to Dacey’s marriage prospects, it did.”

Her habit of occasionally referring to herself in this detached manner still struck me as odd.

“You are angry with him?”

“Because of that? Some. Because of the years of contempt and belittlement? The insults over women bearing arms? Reading? Wearing shoes? A good deal more.”

I understood that she exaggerated for effect – she had not actually been forbidden footwear – but she had not been treated as the independent young woman her mother had attempted to raise and her resentment ran deep.

“He disagreed with the Mormont Way.”

“Mother’s told you the story, then.”

“Some of it, but few details. She found it very sad.”

“I suppose she does. That’s her way. The Dacey Way is to strike back in anger. I was that way before you found me.”

“What became of him?”

“How much do you know?”

“Very little. He spent some years as Lord of the island before Ned Stark allowed him to escape beheading. He went to the Eastern Continent with his beautiful wife, leaving behind the sword Longclaw. Maege gave us her chambers.”

“And that’s a far better use for them,” Dacey said. “Lynesse was indeed beautiful, on the same plane as you or Lyra but golden blonde, and unlike either of you she was thoroughly rotten inside. She came from a wealthy family and had been spoiled because of her beauty, so she expected to be treated as a princess. We have no princesses here, not unless they also shovel horseshit.”

“She shoveled no horseshit.”

Dacey snorted.

“You could say that. But in her defense she was never asked to; Jorah and my uncle both believed that menial work sullied our house and degraded us. They rejected the old ways, what my grandfather had learned from his father and taught to Mother. According to Jeor and Jorah, the Mormonts needed to be like other houses, with servants to do that sort of thing. Uncle Jeor punished me for washing my own clothing.”

“You believe in the Mormont Way.”

“Thoroughly,” Dacey said. “The war taught me a great deal, how spoiled the other young lords had become. I loved King Robb and would have died for him, but the whole disaster unfolded because he was spoiled. No one had ever told him ‘no,’ no one had ever made him shovel horseshit, so when he saw that little Westerling slut he had to have her and then try to make it all right by marrying her.

“By the gods, I should have fucked him. He wanted me, I knew it. He’d have had no eyes for that skinny little slut and her scrawny little tits after a taste of she-bear.”

She grew angry; I tried to divert her.

“I was once very much a spoiled princess. Sometimes, I still am.”

“Then I’m glad I met you after you’d become a Mormont,” she said. “You’ve still got some princess in you, but nothing I can’t overlook.”

She smiled to show that she jested.

“Where is Jorah now?” I asked. “And Lynesse?”

“Last I heard he’d taken service as a sellsword, somewhere in Essos. When his money ran out the bitch did as well and became a courtesan, whore to some ruler in one of the Free Cities, I don’t know which one.”

“So Jorah Mormont could be in Westeros,” I said. “In the service of John Carter.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Dacey admitted. “It’s certainly possible.”

She paused.

“Should we meet him in battle, I wish to kill him myself.”

“He is part of our family,” I said. “Is kinslaying not a great crime here?”

“It is,” Dacey agreed. “But he rejected us, cut himself off from House Mormont.”

I also understood Jorah Mormont to be a greatly feared fighter; if it came to single combat I would prefer that I face him rather than Dacey. I thought on Dacey’s answer a few moments before speaking.

“I must ask Maege,” I said. “I do not want any of us to hesitate if we do meet him, but I would see none of us named kinslayer.”

“Fair enough,” Dacey said. “But Lynesse isn’t kin. If we find her, we slay her.”

* * *

As I felt my full strength return, I asked Jeyne Poole to assign me tasks involving heavy physical labor. After I explained my reasons, she sent me to help the crew digging a “drydock” under the direction of one of the engineers Tansy and Tycho had hired.

When complete, this sunken structure would lie next to the harbor. A ship or boat would be pulled into it, gates would seal shut, and then the water would be pumped out. As the water level fell, workers would put large wooden blocks underneath the vessel to keep it from tipping to one side or the other and becoming damaged.

Jory had been assigned along with me – Jeyne rarely sent me on a work detail without one of my sisters – and she marked rocks which needed to be split. I used a steel wedge, tapping it with a heavy hammer to set it into the stone and then striking it as hard as I could to split it.

Once I found the rhythm I found the work soothing, as it allowed me to destroy things for a noble purpose. The new drydock would allow larger ships to be repaired at Bear Island, or built there, and the fishing fleet’s boats could be maintained far more efficiently. Tansy had been right to seek such development.

Even so, I worried every time our island made such advances. I wanted the people to be happy and healthy, and that meant they needed greater wealth and the prosperity that would keep replenishing that wealth. Eventually they would recognize the need for more effective energy sources than wind and water; perhaps I would need to share some of my scientific knowledge to help them bypass the destructive burning of fossilized carbon.

Some weeks after our return, a small party of special workers known as “stonemasons” arrived along with others called “quarrymen” who included specialists among their craft. They would re-establish a stone quarry on the side of the huge mountain that made up most of Bear Island, and use the stone to line the new drydock, rebuild the small fortification guarding the inlet leading to Mormont Port and replace much of the wooden structure and walls of Mormont Keep.

Jeyne assigned me to assist them, along with Beth Cassel. The craftsmen initially thought I had been set over them to supervise, but Beth explained that I was very strong and would help them break the stones as they directed. They found this deeply amusing until I splintered a large stone using a steel wedge and a single swing of a sledgehammer. They then became enthusiastic about using my unusual ability to best advantage.

The quarrymen marked the places where they wished me to drive wedges, and Beth set them up for me to strike. The quarry had been abandoned many years before, and Jeyne had assembled teams of workers to clear away brush and trees and repair the dirt road leading along the mountainside to Mormont Keep. This would be a major effort, and require most of the island’s small labor force – every family owed a certain amount of public work every year. We of the ruling family put in more labor than the common people, but then we had vastly greater privileges in other areas.

When complete, Mormont Keep would be constructed mostly of stone and protected by stone-faced walls like other castles. Tansy had asked me to consult with the military engineer she had hired to design the new walls – and assure myself of his good character – and I agreed to do so though I had little experience with this type of fortification. Those of Barsoom are chiefly designed to resist attack from the air and usually consist of a thick shield over underground facilities, protected by batteries of high-angle cannon to drive away attacking airships and flyers.

Tansy had greater plans for stonework; the masons and quarrymen had been promised a great deal of work, and thus payment in gold, to make the long journey to Bear Island worthwhile. Her list included a public arena, a much larger bathhouse and a number of public buildings as well as a new, large inn.

With Tansy, Jory and Tycho, I walked around the perimeter of Mormont Keep’s wooden walls while Tansy and Tycho pointed out the improvements they hoped to make to the castle, the town and the port.

“What would you add?” she asked me. “I know you don’t wish to turn the island into a copy of your homeland.”

“I do not,” I said. “I love Bear Island as it is. But I would like the people to be healthy and happy. They need clean water more than anything else we can give them.”

Tansy smiled; she still considered my worry over water-borne illness to be overblown. I worried that I did not give this threat enough attention.

“We have a stream,” she said. “And wells.”

“Those barely provide enough for the people who live here now,” I said. “And the stream is full of shit.”

Tycho made a choking sound; apparently a princess was not supposed to say “shit.”

“So how would you fix that?” Tansy asked. “Without showing us your fancy science.”

“I would build a channel,” I said. “Perhaps elevated to keep a steady angle. This channel would bring water from one or more of the mountain streams down to Mormont Port, where it would fill public fountains and carry shit from shit-rooms out to sea.”

“An aqueduct,” Tycho said. “They supply Braavos as well. Does the mountain have such water sources?”

We all looked at Jory. She in turn looked up toward the mountain.

“You’d be building a stream-bed, more or less?” she asked. “So it would need to run downhill?”

“Correct,” I said.

“So the water would have to come from this slope of the mountain,” she said. “I can think of at least two streams strong enough for what we’d need. It’s a pretty good distance.”

“But less complicated than the bathhouse,” Tansy said. “Simply longer. The bathhouse’s water outlet runs underground. This wouldn’t have to be buried, at least not for its full length.”

“Who would do this work?” I asked. “All hands are already employed, and it will be many years before the war’s losses are made good with new children.”

“We can import more workers,” Tycho said. “We’d have to pay sufficient gold, and the type attracted by that isn’t exactly the most attractive type. Beyond that, many won’t leave afterwards, and it’s my understanding that Lady Mormont doesn’t wish to see great changes in the island’s people.”

“She supports bringing in people,” Tansy said. “Families who will live here and become part of the island. But there’s so much empty land in the North that few will wish to come here.”

In speaking with my soldiers, I had determined that Bear Island lost between 700 and 1,000 soldiers during the war. While some might still live somewhere in the River Lands, they were lost to their homeland just as effectively as the dead. I did not have enough experience with primitive building techniques to say for sure, but I thought it likely that 700 men and women in their physical prime would be more than enough to complete the aqueduct project.

We would not repeat this. If John Carter invaded the North, I would slay him with my own hand rather than see our people diminished further.

* * *

“I have my moon blood,” Lyra told Tansy, Beth, Gilly and I over First Meal, about thirty days after our return to the island. “I failed again.”

Through our bond, I knew Lyra to be unhappy but had little idea how to comfort her, nor did Beth. But we had Tansy with us, who was wise. I felt shame at my relief that Lyra would not be endangered by carrying a child within her; fortunately Lyra was too upset to notice.

“How many times,” Tansy asked her, “have you lain with a man?”

“In total? I’m not sure. Fifteen? Twenty?”

“In my old life, we called that a slow week,” Tansy said. “There’s nothing wrong with you. People out there in the wide world are fucking every night and they think putting a bun in the oven every other year makes for a great many babies.”

“She’s right,” Gilly added. “Took way more than once, maybe thirty or more, ’fore I had . . . a babe.”

Speaking of the circumstances around her childbearing hurt Gilly deeply; even thinking of them did. That she willingly mentioned them spoke of her love for Lyra, which my adoptive sister realized through her telepathic bond with me. She reached across the table for both of Gilly’s hands.

“Thank you,” she said. Silently, I reminded her that I had promised to keep Gilly’s lost children a secret.

“This going off, laying with a man once, coming back with a baby,” Beth said. “That works out great in an adventure story. Real life just isn’t like that.”

“Mother had five daughters that way.”

Beth snorted. It was one of her favorite expressions.

“You know I love my aunt like the mother I never knew,” she said. “But you don’t really believe that, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Tormund seems to know her really well. Like, more than two nights’ well.”

“You think she spent a longer time with him than she says?”

“Hells if I know, and it’s none of my business either way. But I know better than to question Tansy on something like this.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sure you’re right. It’s just . . . Alysane thinks she may be with child again.”

“That’s wonderful,” Tansy said. “Take joy in her joy.”

Lyra turned to Gilly.

“And you?”

Gilly imitated Beth’s snort.

“Not yet,” she said. “Like Lady Mormont says, you takes your pleasure, you takes your chances. Tansy taught me that you’re more like to get with child halfway between your moon blood, less like right before or right after you bleed. Sounds like you was right after when we was at Winterfell.”

Gilly’s thoughts revealed that Tansy had been giving her the special tea that prevented impregnation, something I had not known. I cautioned Lyra to say nothing about this as well; she silently assented.

“You’re right,” Lyra said instead. “I was.” Gilly nodded. “So was I,” our lady-in-waiting said. “That’s why I joined in.”

“So Alysane was lucky,” Lyra said.

“Or planned carefully,” Tansy said. “It was all her idea. I’m happy for her all the same.”

“You are also sad,” I said.

“Maybe a little,” Tansy said. “It’s something I always wanted. But if I wanted it that badly, I would have been in some man’s bed there in Winterfell instead of yours.”

“If it is your wish,” I said. “Neither Beth nor I would stop you.”

Beth shook her head in agreement.

“We love you,” Beth said. “So we want you to be happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next episode, Dejah Thoris bonds even further with her newest sister.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which jealousy explodes among the sisters.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Wylla reported for training every morning, undertaking the exercises without complaint. She washed the green dye out of her light-yellow hair and replaced it with Mormont brown, and someone cut it for her to resemble the shoulder-length style that I and all of my sisters had adopted from Beth Cassel. She idolized my mistress, but remained too intimidated to easily speak with her.

Devan Seaworth had eyes only for Dacey, and her breasts. I had already noted the obsession that many young men held for the female breast; given my own fantasies of freckled breasts I could hardly condemn them for it. He was aware of his father’s hope that he would marry Lord Manderly’s daughter, but he spared little attention for Wylla.

“I could be his mother,” Dacey laughed when I mentioned this to her. “It’s true. There’s almost the same age gap between us as between me and my own mother.”

“That is no barrier among our people.”

“Well, it is among ours,” she said. “At least when the woman’s the older one.”

“That did not stop Jennifer the horse-master from approaching Gendry.”

“Every woman on this island approaches Gendry,” Dacey laughed. “But Devan’s not seriously thinking of me as a girl for him?”

“I do not know. He often imagines you unclothed while he touches his sex organ.”

“He’s not the first to be inspired by these,” she said, running her hands down her upper body. “And he’d better not be the last.”

She looked at me more closely.

“I can never tell when you’re serious,” she said. “You never change expression. Don’t worry so. I know you want to help Lord Davos, but it’s not our burden to make the boy love the girl. He will or he won’t, and they’ll both live happily ever after either way. What about her? Who fills her dreams when she touches herself?”

“She appears to have no sex drive,” I said. “She worries that we scorn her, that she will never be a warrior, but I have never found her to daydream of sex. This is unusual.”

“It would be unusual for me,” Dacey said. “But I don’t know what other people are thinking. That’s probably a good thing.”

* * *

Every other day, I saddled my mare and rode through the nearby forests with my little sister Jory. One or two of our sisters sometimes accompanied us, but I enjoyed our times alone very much. Of those who had accompanied me on my adventures in Westeros, only Jory bore no scars on her body. I hoped she bore none on her soul, but I remained unwilling to ask how her sword had come to be bloodied inside the Twins.

Instead, she continued to point out plants and animals, and teach me more of the life of this planet. The very cycle of life differed so greatly from that of Barsoom, that I recalled the paper I had approved shortly before raising my arms to the blue planet in the night sky. Perhaps my people – all four-limbed people – were not native to my planet, but an introduced, genetically modified species. Except for laying eggs like other creatures of Barsoom, and some adaptations to our lighter gravity and thinner atmosphere, it seemed that we belonged in an environment like that of this planet.

“You’ve drifted away again,” Jory said, smiling. “What are you thinking about so intently?”

All of my sisters, at one time or another, noted my propensity for what they called “daydreaming.” Only rarely did one of them ask about it. Except my little sister.

“I was considering how my people are so similar to yours, yet the plants and animals of Barsoom are so different than what I have seen here.”

“You’ve never told me much about them.”

I thought for a moment.

“Almost all have six limbs, rather than four. They lay eggs, like we do, rather than birth their young alive. They do not sleep during Winter, for our winter lasts but one-fourth of a year.”

“And?”

“There are large and fierce predators. The white apes stand on their rear legs like people, and some can even use weapons, but they are stupid beasts otherwise. The fierce banth have massive rows of teeth and can track the thoughts of their prey. They are deadly to all except my sister Thuvia, who can calm them with her thoughts. We ride thoats, much larger than horses with a vile temperament.

“Flying creatures are almost unknown. The sith are massive insects that carry people away and consume them. There are also gigantic spiders.”

“Do you miss it? Your planet?”

“Sometimes. It was my home and I knew nothing else, and I failed to appreciate it. I was loved, and I failed to appreciate that as well, instead chasing John Carter to a strange and different world.”

“Are you sorry you came here?”

“Had I not foolishly pursued John Carter, I would never have known that I needed a little sister.”

She smiled.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. Do you think you could draw some of these animals of Barsoom?”

“I draw very well,” I said.

“Princess training?” she smiled again.

“Scientist training,” I said. “I think I would like to do this.”

* * *

The more I trained, the more I felt my strength return. Beyond our regular training sessions I sparred with Lyra and Beth for hours, and worked with Dacey as well. She had been thrilled to receive a Valyrian blade, and wished to gain skills worthy of it. Jory felt much the same, though my misgivings continued as I worked with her.

I began to teach Jory the triple style of combat, so that she could step into the place of Beth or Lyra at need. When Dacey regained her strength and better skills with her new sword I planned to teach her as well.

After a lengthy practice session with Dacey, she and I trudged up the hillside to the bathhouse together. We skipped the steam bath, which I feared might prove deadly to me, and found we had the baths to ourselves. As I turned back after closing the door, I found Dacey immediately in front of me. She leaned over and kissed me. Taken by surprise, I tilted my head and kissed her back, wrapping my extended tongue around hers. Her thoughts had shown anticipation of seeing me nude, but no hint that she planned to act on her attraction.

She broke the kiss, took the edges of my tunic in her hands and pulled it over my head. Taking my left breast in her right hand, she kissed me again and dropped my tunic to the floor. I desperately wanted to pull off her tunic and place my lips on her breasts, but I instead placed my hand on the center of her chest and gently pushed her back.

“Dacey,” I said, softly. “I love you. But I do not want this, and neither do you.”

“You’re lying to yourself,” she said, pulling off her own tunic. “You want this as much as I.”

She was not completely wrong; I was sexually attracted to Dacey. We of Barsoom consider height very erotic, especially a tall woman as it is a sign of royal breeding, and I had rarely made love to a woman taller than I. Her large breasts had filled out into perfectly rounded form with circular brown nipples, and she had long legs with a firm physique. And she looked like Lyra. Above all, she looked like Lyra.

“Lyra can’t feel your thoughts this far away. She never need know, unless you tell her.”

She gently took hold of my left hand and placed it on her right breast.

“You want me. I know it, and you know it. Relax and enjoy it.”

I could have removed my hand; instead I ran my thumb over her nipple and felt it stiffen to my touch. I did want her. On Barsoom, there would be no social difficulties should I choose to make love to a sister of my heart. Things were not the same here; Tansy would be upset while Lyra and Beth likely would be as well. They would know no matter what I did, for Dacey would not remain silent on the topic. Recklessly, I kissed her again. She had brown eyes with golden flecks within, just like Lyra’s.

“Your emotions are still wild,” I said after we broke away. “Soon enough, you will regret this. You may even hate me again.”

“Don’t make me beg for it.”

I entered her thoughts; they tasted much like Lyra’s. As always, Dacey’s emotions registered far more intensely than those of my other sisters. I felt her genuine love for me, but her desire struck me like the waves of this planet’s oceans. And so, foolishly, I barred the door, pulled off my leggings and allowed her to take my hand and lead me into the bath with her. We kissed again in the warm water, and as she kissed my breasts I slipped my hand between her legs. I stroked her while we kissed again; she stared directly into my eyes, almost without blinking.

She soon received orgasm, and I did as well. I had rarely experienced it so intensely without the feedback effect of both Beth and Tansy; Dacey’s emotions hovered at the edge of madness. Their raw power turned her orgasm into a storm of passion. I felt my legs thrash in the water as Dacey kissed me even more fiercely and I returned it.

“Too hard,” she whispered. “You’re hurting me.”

I took my hand from her breast, where it had involuntarily tightened.

“I am sorry,” I said. “I did not know.”

“I love you,” she said.

“And I you,” I answered.

“Even after this?”

“We should not have done this,” I said. “You are not responsible and I have obligations to others.”

“Dejah,” she said, softly stroking my face, “it’s true that I can’t always control what I do and say, that feelings overwhelm reason. I love you all the same. That’s real, it’s not the madness. So I’m not sorry for what we did here.”

I deeply regretted what we had done. In the moment, I had been totally absorbed by her love and desire, even more than the sensations of touch. I loved and desired Dacey Mormont. And two other women. And one more.

“Tansy will hate me,” I said. “And Lyra will be disappointed.”

“And that’s the worst part, isn’t it?” Dacey asked. “You wish I’d been my sister.”

“Do not complain. You knew of my feelings for Lyra before you initiated sex with me.”

“I did,” she sighed. “And yes, I envy her for it. If you felt that way about me, I wouldn’t turn you away.”

“She did not turn me away. I refused her offer, as I knew that she did not truly mean it.”

“So why didn’t you refuse me? Love one sister, use the other?”

She grew angry with me.

“I love you, Dacey,” I said. “You are my sister. You know of my love for Lyra, my bond with her. Those existed before I met you.”

“Nothing seems to work the way I intend,” she said, growing calmer and touching my face again. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble for you, for the others. Truly I didn’t. I acted without any thought.”

She spoke the truth. That did not erase what the two of us had done.

“We cannot,” I said, “do this again.”

“We can,” she said, kissing me deeply. “And we will.”

* * *

We dried ourselves and dressed, then made our way separately back to Mormont Keep. As I entered the Keep and started up the stairs, I detected my sister Lyra coming down them. She had felt my disturbed thoughts and sought me out.

“This is going to be trouble,” she said, already aware of what I had done. “We have to tell Tansy, you and I together, right now.”

“I could not help myself.”

“Why, did she overpower the helpless princess who bends horseshoes with her fingers?” Lyra shook her head in frustration. “There’s no doubt you could have helped yourself, but what’s done is done.”

She was unhappy with me, and with Dacey. We started up the stairs.

“Do you still love me?” I asked. She sighed.

“Of course I do, and you already know that. It’s just . . . this is a problem I don’t know how to handle. Let me do the talking.”

“I will do so.”

“Where is Tansy now?”

“In our chambers,” I said. “She is alone.”

“And Beth?”

“In the bakery with Gilly, helping Hot Pie roll dough.”

“Dacey?”

“Climbing the back stairs, headed for her chambers. She is crying.”

“Why?”

“She regrets what we did, and the trouble she has caused.”

“Fine time for that now,” Lyra said. “I’ll handle that problem later. Let’s go see Tansy. Tell Beth to get up here and to bring Gilly, too.”

I hesitated when we reached the door to our chambers, but Lyra took my hand and pulled me through. Tansy looked up from folding clothing.

“What’s happened?” she asked. “Has Dejah killed someone?”

“No,” Lyra said. “Maybe something worse. Dacey wanted sex from her, and Dejah complied.”

“That _slut_ ,” Tansy spat. “That gods-damned _slut_. Should have left her in that castle and watched her burn with it.”

Tansy sat heavily on the edge of our bed, still very angry with Dacey. So angry that she had not yet turned her wrath against me.

“Tansy,” Lyra said, gently. “You know neither one of them can help it. Dacey still isn’t well and Dejah . . . is Dejah.”

I wished to protest, that I was a grown woman who certainly could control her sexual urges, but Lyra silently told me to remain silent. And so I did, but I seethed at being treated like an irresponsible hatchling. Even though I had acted like one.

“It’s about time Dacey stopped playing the ‘forgive me, I’ve been traumatized’ card and that you stopped making excuses for her. And Dejah’s lived here, how long? How many years? And still she just can’t help herself when some slut thrusts a nice pair of tits into her face?”

“I feel her, all the time,” Lyra said. “She loves you. More than anything, or anyone.”

“Then she can learn to keep her legs together, or whatever it is they keep together on Barstool.”

“Barsoom,” I said, reflexively.

“Shut up,” Tansy said, “Just shut the hells up. I haven’t started with you yet.”

She looked back at Lyra.

“I share her with Beth, isn’t that enough? Can I not have something, can I not love someone, without it being taken from me?”

“She loves you no less now than she did this morning.”

“That’s not the point! I know you want her, I see it when you look at her and you think no one else sees. But you’ve not acted on it, even though you know how much she aches for you, even though you know she couldn’t refuse you. Why can’t your gods-damned sister do the same?”

Lyra sat next to her.

“Dacey is your sister, too, the same as I am. Sometimes sisters do things that are cruel. Dacey didn’t mean to be cruel. She’s become impulsive, you know that, and she can’t always control what she says or does. She wanted sex with Dejah, and so she acted.”

“Stop defending her!” Tansy snarled. “You love your sister, you thought she’d never return, and now you’re blind to what she does. She’s a vile and hateful bitch, and deep inside you know it.”

“I’m only speaking the truth,” Lyra said, remaining calm. “She’s not responsible. And you know Dejah won’t refuse someone she loves.”

I felt somewhat offended; Lyra’s thoughts and her tone suggested that this was a moral failing on my part. I had declined Lyra’s offer, more than once. Again Lyra warned me to remain silent.

“It’s Dacey’s home,” Tansy said. “I’m the one who doesn’t belong here.”

She leaned against Lyra and began to sob. I sat on the other side of her from Lyra, and carefully reached out to touch her hand.

“I am sorry,” I said. “I did not wish to cause you pain.”

“You knew I would find out, you knew it would hurt me, yet you did it anyway.”

“I should not have. I was weak.”

“You killed Daenerys for fucking your husband. How is this different?”

Beth and Gilly opened the door and entered before I was forced to answer. They wore brown dresses speckled with white flour. Beth watched us uneasily while Gilly rushed to sit next to me.

“What’s wrong?” Gilly asked. “Did Princess kill somebody?”

“No,” Lyra said. “Dejah and Dacey . . .”

“Oh,” Beth said, and shrugged. “Saw that one coming.”

“You are not upset?” I asked her.

“I love you,” she said. “And I know you love me. But it’s not like we’re married. We’re both women. I’ve no wish to lay with anyone else, but I never said that you couldn’t.”

“Tansy is upset with me.”

“You can’t be angry with the princess,” Gilly said in a rush of words, leaning over me to address Tansy. “She loves you. She’s not like you, just look at her skin and eyes and you expect those’d be the only things what’s different?”

“So you want her, too?”

“That’s not fair,” Gilly said. “You know I’d lay down my life for any of you. I want you all to be happy, to be sisters like it was.”

“I’m sorry, that was cruel of me,” Tansy said. “You’re not the one who deserved that.”

“You wants to hurt Dejah,” Gilly said, now almost in my lap as she pressed forward to confront Tansy, “you has to come through me.”

“It’s alright,” Lyra said to Gilly. “No one’s going to hurt Dejah, or anyone else.”

“Damned straight they’s not.”

“I know you love all of us,” Lyra said to Gilly. ‘We just have to work this out, all of us, including you. You’re not bothered by what happened?”

“Dejah would never hurt any of us,” Gilly said. “And Dacey’s not right in the head. Princess can’t carry children like us, so it don’t mean the same to her. And she loves us all. Tansy knows that better than any of us.”

“How is Dacey?” Beth suddenly asked. “Should I go look in on her?”

I sought out her thoughts.

“She is in her chambers,’ I said. “Crying, and very upset that she lost control. She did not wish to hurt anyone.”

“Go get her,” Lyra said. “And bring her here. No, wait one moment.”

Lyra turned to Tansy.

“Are you ready to speak with Dacey? And Dejah?”

“I am.”

“Without anger?”

“Perhaps a little anger, but I’m finished wishing her dead.”

“Close enough. Please go get Dacey.”

Beth left and returned holding Dacey’s hand; Dacey had obviously been weeping.

“I wronged you,” she said immediately, kneeling in front of Tansy. “I know what Dejah means to you, and I knew she’d find it hard to resist; I look too much like Lyra. I felt an impulse and I followed it. You can slap me if it would make you feel better.”

Tansy slapped Dacey across the face with her open right hand, very hard. Dacey’s head snapped to the side, but she did not raise her own hand.

“I deserved that,” she said, rubbing her jaw. “I just didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

“Do you feel better now?” Lyra asked Tansy, in a somewhat harsh tone.

“A little,” Tansy said, and looked back at Dacey. “Stay out of my sight, for at least the next few days.”

“I truly am sorry, Tansy,” Dacey said. “And I’ll do as you say.”

Tansy looked back at Lyra.

“Take Dejah up to the mountain lodge. Fuck each other, play chevasse, jump off a cliff hand-in-hand. I really don’t care. I’ll be better when you come back. Probably.”

* * *

I returned with Lyra to her chambers; Beth brought an armload of my clothing a short while later. She found me stretched on Lyra’s bed, staring at the ceiling while Lyra stoked the fire, and sat beside me.

“She’ll come around,” my secret mistress said, stroking my hair. “She forgave you and I for fucking, didn’t she?”

“She loves you,” I said. “She does not like Dacey. And you were just one woman. Dacey makes two. Our science teaches that there is no such thing as two.”

She thought about that for a moment.

“Because once you go past one, the number might as well be endless?”

“Exactly so.”

“Dejah, that’s not true or fair. Dacey is your sister. You have a limited number of sisters.”

“And you think I wish sex with all of them? To turn our family into a . . .” I floundered for a word.

“No,” she said. “But nothing stays the same. Dacey’s return was sure to change all of our relations.”

“Why are you not angry with me?”

“Maybe because I came to you after you and Tansy had come together, and I sympathize? I wanted you so badly. I still do, constantly. You know that, and you know that I love you right back.”

“You do not mind that I received orgasm through another woman?”

“I’d rather you hadn’t, if it was up to me, but I’m more worried about Tansy. I can feel your thoughts and know you don’t love me any less, and haven’t pushed me aside. She can’t know that with the same certainty I can.”

I remained concerned about Beth’s feelings, but Lyra had finished with the fire and joined Beth on the edge of the bed.

“We leave in the morning,” Lyra told Beth. “Do you wish to come with us?”

“Thank you, no. I think I’d best stay here, lest Tansy think we’ve all abandoned her. And someone needs to make sure Dacey doesn’t do anything else stupid. Do we need to tell Alysane and Maege?”

“I’ll tell them when I let them know we’re leaving,” Lyra said. “They need to know in case Dacey gets worse.”

“It is my fault,” I said. “I am humiliated. Soon Maege will know.”

“You are who you are,” Lyra said. “I should have seen it coming, and not left you alone with her.”

“Dacey and I are adult women,” I said. “It is not our way, among my people, to refuse sex with a sister of the heart. It was my responsibility to adjust to your ways.”

“Yes, it was,” Lyra said. “I know it’s hard for you. Just because you can read our thoughts, doesn’t mean you can understand them. But you’ve always known that you’re not in Helium anymore.”

“Will Tansy forgive me? And love me again?”

“She still loves you,” Beth said. “If she won’t forgive you, I’ll threaten to throw myself off a cliff again.”

* * *

I slept that night cuddled tightly alongside Lyra, and woke to find Gilly kissing me on the forehead.

“Don’t you worry none,” she whispered. “I’ll make her come round, you’ll see.”

Lyra and I saddled our horses as the sun rose and rode out with the food Gilly had brought us. I had disappointed Lyra, and my shame at having done so irritated her further.

“I’m not the one you wronged,” she said aloud as we walked our horses some time later. “You’re not thinking of Tansy now, just like you didn’t think of her yesterday.”

I wished to say something in my defense, but had nothing to offer. Lyra knew my thoughts, and so I knew her to be correct.

“What can I do?” I asked. “You know how much I love all of you.”

She sighed.

“We’ll spend a few days at the lodge and let Tansy cool off. When we return, we have to talk to Tansy again. You did wrong by her, but she’s not being realistic, either. Women can’t marry, and you made no pledge to her. She just assumed that. But you let her assume that.”

“You are unhappy with me as well.”

“I love you too much to be truly angry with you, but you do frustrate me sometimes.”

“You worry that I love you more than I do Tansy.”

“I told her differently, but I wasn’t sure when I said it.”

“I do not know myself.”

“And I’m not sure it matters,” Lyra said. “It’s pretty stupid to try to rank love, anyway. You love me, you love her, you love all of your sisters.”

That was not completely true; Lyra was aware that I did not like Lyanna, our youngest sister, and that I felt shame for being less close to Alysane than to my other sisters. She alone of my sisters knew the depth of my heartbreak over the loss of Thuvia, left behind on Barsoom.

* * *

We arrived at the hunting lodge; Lyra told me to ask the horses to remain outside. We would care for them later. She took my hand and led me directly to one of the bed chambers. She turned and kissed me as soon as we passed through the open doorway, consciously imitating how Dacey had begun.

“You have made your point,” I said. “I am not a slave to orgasm.”

“Are you sure?” She kissed me again, with a great deal of tongue and passion.

“I am in your thoughts. I know that you are trying to teach me to control my sexual urges.”

“Of course I am,” she said, but smiled. “But if you’d really wanted to, I was ready.”

“I know,” I said. “And I love you.”

“I know you do. And if it doesn’t hurt Tansy, we can do this for real. Not before.”

“Not before,” I agreed. “The horses are hungry.”

We brushed our horses and picked out their hooves, then stabled and fed them. Afterwards Lyra prepared a large meal of smoked pork, pickled cabbage and potatoes. I liked it very much, and began to feel somewhat better. With the utensils cleaned and put away, we relaxed in the lodge’s small bathhouse.

“You remember what happened the last time you got into a bath with a busty Mormont beauty?”

“I will not forget for a very long time.”

“Do you have any idea how strange it is,” Lyra asked, “feeling the memories of you having sex with my birth sister?”

I had not considered this aspect.

“It is different from my memories of Tansy or Beth?”

“I was only jesting,” she said. “I don’t feel your thoughts and memories as deeply as I did when I was dying. I’m well aware of the difference between your memories and mine. But I do look at Tansy a little differently when she’s naked, I have to admit. I always knew she was beautiful, but now I feel it.”

“Have I become obsessed with orgasm?”

“If you’d ripped off my leggings and put that long blue tongue inside me, I’d have to say yes,” she said. “But you didn’t, even though you wanted to.”

“I cannot hurt Tansy.”

“Me either.”

“I also love Dacey.”

“I know you do. And I’m so happy that you’ve accepted her fully as your sister. You also know she’s not really capable of making that choice.”

“You are wise.”

* * *

We remained at the lodge for two days, hunting deer and making some repairs to the building’s roof. We slept alongside one another, as always, and kissed frequently but did not engage in sex.

On the third day, I detected Beth’s approaching thoughts as I worked outside the lodge splitting dead trees into firewood. Tansy came with her.

Lyra came out of the lodge to await them with me. We stood in front of the door as they rode up and Tansy dismounted.

“Let’s ride a little more,” Beth said to Lyra, who mounted Tansy’s horse. “We’ll be back . . . eventually.”

Tansy walked into the lodge without a word, so I followed her though the door and into one of the bedchambers. There, she turned and took hold of my tunic, pulling it over my head, and pulled down my leggings. I shrugged them the rest of the way off and stood naked before her. Still not saying a word, she pressed me backward onto the bed, climbed on it and straddled me. She slowly removed her own Mormont black tunic and dropped it to the floor, then stared down at me.

“You hurt me,” she said, softly.

“I am sorry.”

“I thought about leaving. Taking ship and never looking back. I couldn’t.”

“What stopped you?”

“I have a mother now,” she said. “I always wanted a mother.”

She sighed.

“And as deeply as you hurt me, I still love you. I won’t be separated from my sister.”

“You will forgive me?”

“I will. After you fuck me.”

“What of our sister?”

“Dacey? I’ll forgive her, but no more fucking her, no matter that she has Lyra’s high tits and pretty eyes.”

“I will not. But I asked about Beth.”

“Can you reach their thoughts from here?”

I nodded.

“Call them back,” she said, “and we’ll do them both.”

I had not thought to block my connection with Lyra; she was already aware of Tansy’s words. She hesitated for a moment, then turned her horse back toward the lodge and called to Beth to do the same.

* * *

“How does this work?” Lyra asked, her voice sounding strained. “I mean, with four of us.”

“We’ll start off very easy,” Tansy said. “I get to go first because, well, because I do.”

She directed Lyra to lay beside me, facing me. I looked into her eyes, feeling Beth Cassel’s thoughts as well, and reached for Tansy’s. I employed a great deal of concentration but could not forge a connection with Tansy without looking into her eyes, though I had done so before. Through Beth’s thoughts I knew she had kissed Tansy, and I looked through Beth’s eyes into Tansy’s to finally bring her thoughts into communion with the rest of us.

I had had sex with multiple partners on Barsoom, but the sensations were very different since my lovers here were not telepaths themselves and I had to concentrate to maintain the connection between them. Sensing the strain it caused me to maintain our bond Tansy kissed Beth very hard and reached between Beth’s legs to bring her to orgasm with her fingers before the effort became too much for me.

Beth moaned loudly rather than screaming as she received orgasm, while Lyra whimpered and pressed her face into the curve of my neck and shoulder. I felt her body shudder even as I felt the release of all three of my sisters, and felt the hormones surge into my own body. And then I entered the blessed state of nothingness, my thoughts replaced by patterns of color. I struggled to regain control before feedback could damage any of our minds, and soon felt myself holding Lyra tightly to me as I panted.

“I think four is too much for her,” I heard Beth Cassel say. “I’m completely sure it’s too much for me.”

“They’re all right?” Tansy asked.

“I believe so,” Beth said. “Dejah can hear us but I think she’s still stunned. I think Lyra caught a lot of that from her.”

“Let them sleep it off. I’d like some ale.”

I did nap for a time, to awaken as I felt Lyra’s thoughts stir. She kissed me as she felt me come fully awake; our sisters had left us in the bed chamber alone.

“Does that count as laying together?” she asked. “We didn’t even kiss.”

“I do not know,” I said. “Do you wish to? That is why they left us here.”

She answered by kissing me, and I returned it, extending my tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next episode, Dejah Thoris deals with the aftermath.


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris encounters a familiar stranger.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I had fantasized making love to Lyra Mormont since the moment I had awakened in Greywater Watch to find her watching over me. She lacked Tansy’s experience or Beth’s screaming passion, but our mental connection and her love for me gave our love-making added intensity, a powerful orgasm combined with the telepathic intimacy I would have felt with a woman of Barsoom.

Afterwards, for reasons I could not truly explain, both Lyra and I pulled on brown dresses to meet our sisters rather than leave the bedchamber still nude. They sat before a fire, still sipping cups of ale. Silently, we joined them.

“You’re glowing,” Tansy said. “Both of you.”

“You are not angry?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “Beth talked some sense into me. And Gilly threatened to beat some sense into me. Let’s just forget it.”

“At least the two of you were finally wrong about something,” Beth said. “Four at once doesn’t actually work.”

“I cannot channel that much emotion,” I said, “and still participate myself.”

“No more four-partner sex?” Beth asked.

“I don’t think so,” Lyra said. “I think I might . . .”

She had almost said that she might wish to have sex with me again, but not in a group or with the others, then realized that this might upset Tansy.

“I’ve been a horse’s ass,” Tansy said suddenly. I knew that her emotions had swung almost as wildly as Dacey’s, and likely would again. “I wanted to pick and choose, to enjoy Dejah’s ways that I liked, and ignore the ones that I didn’t.”

“You were right,” I said. “I did not consider your feelings, and I should have.”

“Yes, you should have,” Tansy said. “You also should have thought about how you might make Dacey’s madness even worse.”

“You are right again.”

“Now that you’ve had the real thing, you can leave Dacey alone.”

“Dacey is my sister as well,” I said. “I love her, as I do all of you. What happens between us is a choice for she and I to make.”

“It’s true,” Lyra said. It embarrassed her that Beth and Tansy knew exactly what she and I had just done. “I’ve been deep inside Dejah’s memories. She really does love all of us. Apparently all of her people are that way.”

“Yes,” I said. “To obsessively love one person is considered . . . unusual.”

I had almost said “mentally ill,” but like Lyra, I did not wish to insult and anger Tansy again. Lyra spoke up to fill the silence before Tansy could speak.

“She left sisters behind in her homeland that she loves as much as she does us, and she misses them as she would any of us.”

Tansy sighed.

“I have a mother and sisters who love me,” she said. “What I said I always wanted. Maybe I should remember that.”

“What happens now?” Beth asked.

“I mind my own business and keep my mouth shut,” Tansy said. “Dejah is a grown woman who can make her own decisions. So’s Lyra. So is Dacey, sometimes. So are you, too.”

“And the three of us?” my mistress persisted.

“No change on my account,” Tansy said. “I’ve thought so much about losing Dejah, after I believed I’d seen her die on John Carter’s sword. I wanted her to myself.”

“You didn’t want me?” Beth asked. “I’m an afterthought? An extra?”

She became upset very quickly, and as desperately as I wished to comfort her I could not. This rift had been created by Tansy’s jealousy over me, and could only be healed by Tansy.

“Beth,” Tansy said, taking her hand and putting her other hand alongside Beth’s face. “I’ve fucked a lot of people. Thousands of them, easily. I don’t really know how to love normally, not any more than you or Dejah. You and I are damaged, and she’s . . . I don’t know what.”

“An alien,” I offered.

“An alien,” she agreed. In their language it meant someone from a foreign land, a stranger. “I would never hurt you. Not willingly.”

“As Dejah would never willingly hurt you,” Beth said. “Nor would I.”

“No,” Tansy whispered. “You never would.”

* * *

We remained in the lodge for several more days; I engaged in sex with each of my sisters individually, and Tansy and Beth with one another, but Lyra only did so with me. We did not attempt group sex again.

Tansy and Lyra left for Mormont Keep before my secret mistress and I; Lyra knew that I wanted some time alone with Beth Cassel and told Tansy. Beth suspected this, but did not object.

“You arranged for this,” she said as we watched them ride away.

“I did,” I said. “I have not appreciated you properly.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I do,” I said. “You mean no less to me than Lyra or Tansy.”

“Or your sister from home?”

“No less than Thuvia, the other half of my soul.”

“If you find a way back to Barsoom,” she said. “Promise you’ll take me with you. Swear it.”

“I do not think I would wish to return.”

“Swear it.”

Our sisters had passed out of sight. We stood alone on the grass-covered flat ground in front of the lodge. I went to one knee and took her hand in both of mine; in my 442 years I had never knelt to anyone.

“I love you,” I said, kissing the palm of her hand. “I swear that I will not leave this world, that I will not leave this island, without you at my side.”

She knelt as well, took my hand and kissed its palm.

“And I swear that I will never leave your side, whatever may come.”

I looked into her blue eyes. She placed my hand over her heart. I felt it beating very fast. I did the same with her hand.

“You’re my princess,” she said, “and I’m your mistress, and that’s how it is.”

“And you are my princess,” I repeated, “and I am your mistress, and that is how it is.”

I rose to my feet, and pulled Beth to hers.

“We are bonded now,” I said. “Our lives tied together.”

“That’s all I ever dreamed of,” she said, and leaned forward to kiss me. She took my hand, and we returned to the lodge. We did not leave it for three more days.

* * *

“It does not bother you,” I asked as we lay on a bearskin atop the lodge’s roof under the night sky, “that I have other lovers?”

“Does it bother you,” she returned, “when I lay with Tansy?”

“It does not,” I said. “But it is not my way to be bothered.”

“I don’t want to lay with Lyra or Dacey,” she said, “Either alone, or with you. We’re sisters, like you and I, but we’re also cousins by blood. It’s not like it could lead to children between us, but it still feels . . . icky.”

“Icky?”

“Icky,” she said, very firmly. “And I didn’t answer your question. Our minds are connected, not as tightly as you and Lyra, but I still can feel your thoughts. I know you love me. And you knelt before me and asked for my hand. That was . . .  I don’t know what. No one’s ever done that for me.”

“It does not hurt you when I make love to another?”

“No,” she said. “It hurts me when you don’t think of me, or only think about my tits. It didn’t bother me that you fucked Dacey, and it won’t if you make love to her again. It bothered me that you worried about how Lyra and Tansy would react, but not me. Like you heard me tell Tansy, I won’t be an afterthought.”

I rolled onto my side, flung my leg over her lower body and looked down into her eyes.

“I was wrong,” I said. “You should never be an afterthought, and never will be again. You and I are bonded now.”

“Was that some ritual from Barsoom?”

“No,” I said. “But it should be. I am yours, as you are mine.”

I kissed her intently, dancing my tongue along hers. After finally breaking away I slowly moved downward to her breasts, tracing her freckles, now dark under the moonlight, until I reached her greatly enlarged, shining nipples. She received orgasm before I could do more, and screamed into the empty night. I screamed as well.

* * *

I had left Mormont Keep worried that I had shattered my relationships with my family. I returned still insecure, but less fearful.

“You have special bonds with Tansy and with Lyra,” my mistress said as the Keep came into view. “Don’t let that change.”

“I will not,” I said. “But I will not forget to appreciate you, either. Not long ago, you did your best to stand apart from me.”

“You can be intimidating,” she said. “I couldn’t imagine myself worthy of the beautiful princess.”

“Now you know better.”

“I know that you love me. And I know that you worry that I’ll be killed, or that I enjoy killing. Worry less and enjoy our time together.”

“That sounds like foreshadowing.”

“No,” she smiled. “Just a woman in love, not wanting to think about the darkness.”

“Safe with you,” I said.

“Safe with you, too.”

Lyra and Tansy stood by the heavy wooden gates of Mormont Keep to await us, next to the odd carving of an axe-wielding woman warrior holding a baby.

“All is well?” Beth asked as she swung her leg over the front of her saddle and bounced to the ground.

“All is well,” Tansy answered. “And you?”

“Never better.”

“We’ve had a raven from Winterfell,” Tansy said. “Myranda Royce is on her way here.”

“I would like to see her again,” I said. “I hope she has forgiven me.”

“I doubt she’d be coming all the way out here otherwise,” Tansy said. “Please try not to kill her.”

“You are still angry with me.”

“No, like I said, all’s well,” she said, and finally smiled. “Sometimes a girl needs her mother.”

“Maege is wise,” I said.

“Yes,” Tansy agreed. “She is wise.”

* * *

I found myself spending more time with Jory; she had an idea that there had been emotional drama between her older sisters but had no desire to know any details. I deeply appreciated her indifference.

Gendry had made a charcoal drawing stick for me, a cylinder of black charcoal bound inside a wooden sheath. I had used something similar on Barsoom, and drew on some large pieces of paper I had looted from Castle Black – I did not think it proper to use the rare and expensive animal skins known as “parchment” to indulge in a hobby.

“What color is it?” Jory asked as I showed her a fearsome banth I had drawn in charcoal.

“Reddish-brown,” I said. “It must blend in with the rocks and sand of the desert.”

“How big is it?”

“Very large, perhaps the size of four or five horses together.”

“It’s a predator?”

“A deadly one. It is a strong telepath and tracks the thoughts of its prey.”

“It eats people?”

“Yes,” I said. “It relishes our flesh.”

“Can you read its thoughts?” Jory asked. “Can it read yours?”

“I can block a banth from detecting me, but many cannot. My sister, Thuvia, can control the banths with her thoughts.”

“They obey her?”

“They do,” I said. “She is a very strong telepath, but her ability to contact animals and bend them to her will is highly unusual if not unique.”

“Are they smart? The banths?”

“They are cunning, which is not the same thing but makes them highly dangerous.”

I thought for a moment.

“I think I would like to draw one full-sized, on the white wall of the indoor training arena.”

“There’s an artist in the port who makes water-color paints,” Jory said. “No lead in them. He mostly uses different-colored clays he finds in stream beds.”

* * *

I could not avoid a return to training; my body needed the work and my students needed my instruction. Ser Marlon wished to learn, but had difficulties overcoming a lifetime of habit.

“I worked to make it second nature,” he said, smiling. “Not so easy to put it aside this late in life.”

“Even more reason,” I said. “You are less likely now to prevail with strength alone. Learn to anticipate, to truly see your opponent.”

“I have a set of bruises shaped just like the tip of Lady Beth’s sword, all right over my heart.”

“She is unusually fast,” I said. “But as you know well, one does not have the luxury of choosing a slow opponent in battle.”

I had not yet allowed Wylla to work with a sword; while we drilled she continued to exercise. Ser Marlon glanced at her.

“Might I visit you in your office later?” he asked.

“Of course.”

Devan Seaworth took to sword training less willingly, clinging to the lessons he had learned. Jory “killed” him repeatedly, yet he would not abandon the notion of overpowering her with brutal sword strokes which she easily dodged.

On our second night at the Keep, Beth and Gilly remained in the kitchens working with the nighttime cleaning crew while Little Sam spent the night with one of his friends, leaving Tansy and I alone in our chambers.

“I have missed you,” I said, working at the laces holding her clothing in place. I never wore the complex dresses of this land, partly because I found them too restricting, but partly because I did not wish to appear foolish when I could not dress or undress myself.

“You had me days ago.”

“Very long days,” I said, and kissed her. I finally freed her breasts, and pulled off my own simple brown dress.

“You’ve become insatiable.”

“Possibly,” I said. “I see no harm in it. I love you. And I was taught to show, not tell.”

Before meeting me, Tansy had spent her adult life seducing men and sometimes women. That seemed to leave her uniquely unprepared to be seduced herself. Yet again, I enjoyed awakening her excitement.

* * *

Dacey did not appear for our training sessions; it had been four days since Beth and I returned to the Keep and she had carefully avoided me.

“Today I must seek out Dacey,” I told Tansy as I cleaned my teeth in the morning. “She remains my sister.”

“And your lover?”

“If we both wish it,” I said. “It is our choice.”

“You won’t mind if I stay out of that.”

“Not at all,” I said. “You do not like her.”

“No,” she sighed. “I don’t. I feel badly about it, like I’m betraying Maege, but I don’t like Dacey, haven’t since we met.”

“Lyra is your closest friend.”

“They’re not the same person.”

She took my hand in hers.

“We don’t have to like the same things,” she said. “Or the same people. And I don’t want bad things to happen to Dacey. Well, not really bad things.”

I found Dacey in one of the Keep’s watchtowers, one that did not have a guard on duty. She sat quietly on a small wooden box, looking out at the mountainside.

“How long have you been here?” I asked as I climbed through the trap door leading to the watch platform.

“A while,” she said. “Don’t worry. I’m not planning to jump off.”

“You have avoided me.”

“I made a fool of myself,” she said. “And embarrassed you. And everyone knows.”

“You acted impulsively,” I said, folding my legs beneath me to sit next to her. “You are still my sister and I love you.”

“As a sister, or a lover?”

“We are sisters,” I said, quoting Tansy, “and that is not subject to change. If we are to be anything else, you must accept that I am bonded to Tansy, to Beth and to Lyra.”

“I don’t know what I want,” Dacey said. “I want the madness to stop, I want to feel . . . normal again.”

“I have told you before,” I said. “I will help you. I will stand by you through all the pain, through all the madness.”

“I nearly ruined things for you.”

“I was present as well, was I not? You did not force me.”

“Tansy hates me,” Dacey said. “The others look at me with anger, or pity, or disgust.”

“What others?” I asked. “Lyra and Beth love you no less. I know that Jory loves you.”

“What should I do?”

“Come with me down this tower to the training yard, and join us as befits a proud Mormont woman.”

“You can’t keep saving me.”

“I can and I will.”

Standing, I took her hand and walked with her to the training yard. She took her place and we began our exercises.

* * *

Gilly brought Ser Marlon to my office later that same day as I approved a training schedule proposed by my Guard officers. She brought coffee as well, along with Melly, and took a seat next to me as the soldiers left.

“You wished to discuss Lady Wylla?” I asked the knight. “Gilly has been observing her.”

“Lady Gilly,” he nodded politely as he took his own seat. “Then you’ve seen what I have.”

“She don’t eat,” Gilly said. “Not unless you stands over her and then makes sure she don’t puke it up later.”

“I have observed the same,” the knight said. “I am at a loss as to the cause, nor can I offer a solution.”

“You knew of this before your journey?” I asked.

“To my shame, no,” Ser Marlon said. “I can’t say I paid much mind to Lady Wylla before my cousin asked me to accompany her to Bear Island.”

“We – my sisters Lyra and Dacey and I, as well as Gilly – became aware when we examined her at the start of training,” I said. “We have supervised her diet since.”

“She will live?”

“I do not know,” I said. “She appears to be eating regularly and putting on weight, but as you know I have not yet cleared her for training beyond the morning exercises, and Jeyne Poole has not assigned her strenuous work.”

“She seems like she’s listening,” Gilly said. “We hasn’t had to stop her puking for at least a moon’s turn. She’s still not bleeding though.”

Ser Marlon reddened.

“As her guardian,” I said. “You must know of such things. It is troubling that she does not bleed like a healthy young woman.”

“What does Lady Melly say?” Ser Marlon asked. “She saved you, and Lady Lyra.”

Melly shook her head.

“You must want good news if you’re calling me a lady,” she said. “Or you’ve gone blind. I’m with pretty little Gilly. Eating’s improved, but I won’t rest easy on the girl ’til she has regular moon blood.

“She’s starting to show some curves to her, and her bones don’t look like they’re about to pop out her skin, but still needs to eat a good bit. Don’t take her home, she’ll just hide away behind her maids and die quietly.”

The knight nodded.

“I’ll trust your judgement.”

“You’d best do that,” Melly said. “Don’t let no maesters at her. They’ll bleed her and give her potions and whatnot. Girl needs to eat wholesome food, then keep it down.”

Ser Marlon rose.

“I thank you all,” he said, bowing to each of us. “She could have died without me even noticing her distress.”

I wondered how many women in these lands died of such indifference. As much as I loved my new family and my new home, their society still managed to frighten me.

* * *

While I avoided meetings where my attendance had not specifically been requested, some required my participation. The island’s wartime losses concerned Maege, and Jeyne with the help of Lord Tycho had a plan for long-term replenishment of Bear Island’s population.

“We’ve integrated 144 small children sent from . . . the South,” he said, referring to those children taken from the Twins. “Lady Jeyne oversaw it, and the program appears to have gone well.”

“It’s true,” Jeyne Poole said, nodding to Tycho. “We could have placed many more. Lady Mormont directed that no more than one child should be placed in a single village, but I had no difficulties in spreading them.”

“I had understood,” I said, “that few wished to take orphaned children into their family.”

“Normally, that’s the case,” Jeyne said. “Parents prefer to birth their own children rather than to foster those of others. Many of the families who lost someone in the war wished for a child. Others were glad of the cash payments we’ve promised to families who take in such a child.”

“You plan to seek more such children?”

“Exactly,” Tycho said. “Hopefully not due to the same cause. Lady Jeyne has indeed proposed that we find more children. She has asked my opinion, and I do not think it would be difficult to acquire them, from religious institutions and whorehouses and through quiet requests to local lords and town councils.”

“I agree,” Tansy said. “And I want one.”

I wished my sister to be happy, to have the child she wanted, but felt whispers of the same jealousy I had known when she found Arya Stark. Meanwhile, Maege nodded her head.

“I like this plan,” she said. “And the Mormont family should lead by example. How many children in total?”

“Counting those already placed,” Jeyne said, “I had thought to seek one thousand, to balance the wartime losses.”

“Tansy?” Maege asked. “Can we secure that many?”

“Easily,” she said. “But be aware that not all will be orphans. Many women, even married families, have children they simply don’t want.”

“Lord Tycho?” Maege prompted, noting his disquiet.

“There are some additional difficulties to overcome that I had not yet mentioned. We have a few commercial agents in place, but they would have no contacts or experience in this area. There’s also the problem of transport once we find the children, and caretakers for them during the journey. One can’t drive children as though they were cattle. As with trade and investment, distance and isolation work against us.”

“What if we focus only on the places we can easily reach?” Jory asked. “Deepwood Port, the Winter Town at Winterfell, White Harbor?”

“There would be far fewer children than one thousand,” Tansy answered. “But it would be a start. And we can send women from the island to assure the children are cared for during the journey.”

“Very well,” Maege said. “Tansy, please draft letters to Lords Glover, Seaworth and Manderly with our request. Lord Tycho, Jeyne, please continue to consider methods by which we might bring in orphans from further afield, or whether we might not prefer smaller numbers over a longer time.”

Jeyne nodded. Maege looked at me.

“Dejah? Any concerns from the military viewpoint?”

“None of which I am aware,” I said. “I will welcome additional recruits when they are old enough. But perhaps some form of formal education would be appropriate? Schools for the new children?”

“We have none for the existing children outside of the Keep,” Maege said. “Perhaps that should change, but it’s a topic for another day. Tansy, if you and Jeyne would prepare a proposal?”

They nodded. I did not see that my presence had been required, but I was glad to have made a positive contribution after all. An educated population would benefit the island for generations.

* * *

Jory had been correct; I greatly enjoyed adding color to the full-sized banth I had drawn on the wall of the training arena. I worked on its massive set of teeth after Mid-Day Meal on a cool day as Winter again approached, when one of my soldiers rushed into the arena.

“Princess!” she shouted, breathing hard. “A dragon! Out over the inlet!”

“Find Lady Mormont and Alysane. Tell them to conduct everyone into the underground storage vaults, and that I shall confront the dragon alone. Tell any soldiers you see to escort the people underground, immediately.”

“Yes, Princess.”

I headed for the walls to see for myself. Gilly stood immediately outside the arena, looking for me.

“Go to my office. Bring my sword, dagger and Mormont blacks to the wall above the main gate. Tell the horse master to prepare my mare.”

She nodded without speaking and ran into the building. I ran to the front gate and quickly mounted the steps to the fighting platform.

“There,” said one of the watching soldiers, pointing out over the water. “It’s the green dragon you warned us of.”

And so it was, bearing a single rider. I could not reach the stranger’s thoughts. The dragon circled the Keep and Mormont Port at a distance, apparently observing the small town and castle as we observed them.

Gilly arrived with my clothing and weapons; she had brought my two-piece outfit rather than the tunic and leggings I had intended, but I had not been clear on this point. I pulled off my brown dress to dress myself; the soldier pretended to keep his eyes on the dragon but glanced at my breasts and my ass out of the corner of his eye. Soldiers were the same on all worlds.

Beth and Lyra reached the top of the wall as I adjusted my sword belt.

“Find Tansy,” I told Lyra. “She is in Maege’s solar. See that she is safe.”

“What about you?”

“Find Tansy and take her to the underground vaults. Tell her that I love her. As I love you.” I took her face in both of my hands and kissed her. “Go now.”

I grasped Gilly by the shoulder.

“Do the same with your son. Let nothing stop you.”

She nodded and raced away, but stopped at the top of the stairs, looked back at me and whispered, “I love you.”

This all seemed far too familiar. Once before, I had kissed Lyra before descending from a castle’s walls to fight and kill a dragon. That I had triumphed, and survived, did not mean that this would occur a second time. I was more likely to be killed, but I would attempt to kill the dragon anyway.

“Go into the Keep,” I told Beth. “Jory is in the kitchens. Keep her safe.”

“I’m staying with you. You swore an oath.”

“I cannot bear to see you die.”

When I fought Daenerys’ dragons, everyone who accompanied me had died, burned to death in dragon’s flame. They had been my friends; Beth Cassel was much more to me.

“That’s not your choice,” she said. “I live or die by your side.”

I could not spare the time to argue.

“Then come with me,” I finally said, hearing my voice break on the final word.

The dragon had slowly circled a rocky outcrop overlooking Mormont Port, but some distance from the Keep and the small town. Jennifer the master of horses had already saddled and tacked up my mare and Beth’s favorite brown horse, and we rode out of the Keep alone. I still could not access the thoughts of the dragon’s rider, who wore a full-length black cloak with a hood.

We said nothing as we rode; Beth’s thoughts showed her determined to stand beside me. I worried for her safety. We reached the foot of the rocky crag on which the dragon perched, dismounted and climbed up the steep slope. The dragon’s rider dismounted as well.

As we reached the top, I drew my sword as did Beth.

“The dragon will rear back before spewing flame,” I told Beth, knowing that I had likely assured my mistress a fiery death by allowing her to accompany me. “I will leap for its throat when it does so.”

“I’m in your way out here.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “But it is too late to change that. Throw yourself at the rider when I leap at the dragon. Be sure that you kill the rider even if you and I are both killed.”

“Dejah,” she said, “no guilty feelings. This is where I wanted to be. Where I need to be. Here with you.”

And perhaps she did need to be with me; if I could distract the dragon long enough, she might have a chance to kill its rider. I believed there to be a good chance that the dragon would not burn the Keep without orders to do so. I regretted not taking a moment to kiss Beth Cassel before climbing through the rocks.

As we drew close enough to see that the dragon rider was a woman, I drew in a deep breath and blocked my telepathic connection to Lyra. I could not contact her at this distance, but did not wish for her to feel my death. The rider held up one hand, then threw back the hood of her cloak, revealing long black hair over familiar copper skin and black eyes.

 _< <Kaor, Dejah Thoris!>>_ my sister Thuvia cried excitedly in the language of Barsoom. _< <I have heard my sister’s call. You may put away that sword.>>_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our epilogue, Dejah Thoris encounters a political operative.
> 
> In the Ed Wood tradition, there will be a Part Four!


	27. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris encounters a whisperer.

He was a very strange man, hairless and somewhat fat, scented with perfume and wearing odd, colorful robes of the material known as silk. Yet again, these people had found a use for insect vomit. He took a chair alongside a small table; I sat on the soft and comfortable couch across from him and turned to prop my feet up. A serving girl left a carafe of wine and two very fine glasses.

“I don’t drink,” he began.

“I do.” I poured a glass for myself. I could not read this strange man’s thoughts. He was practiced in hiding his feelings, and seemingly aware of my abilities. I considered calling for my sister Thuvia, who could surely shatter his mental defenses, but decided to allow her to sleep.

“You asked to see me.”

“I did. My name is Varys. I serve John Carter.”

“Serve him how?”

“I provide him information, as I did Daenerys before him. And a series of kings and queens before her.”

“You switch your loyalties easily.”

“No. I serve the realm. Those kings and queens came from different families, but all had the realm in common.”

“And the fact that they are now dead, despite your assistance.”

“Yes, that too.”

“You served Aegon Targaryen as well?”

“Yes.”

“He wished to kill John Carter.”

“Yes.”

“Yet now you serve John Carter.”

“Yes.”

“You are a man of few words, and many treacheries.”

“All I do, I do for the realm. For all of the people. John Carter is the best hope they now have.”

“Because I killed your last best hope. And the one before that as well.”

“And the one before that, also.”

“You are misinformed. My sister Beth Cassel killed the Lannister. I killed Daenerys, Aegon and Cersei. I killed Walder Frey, but surely you did not expect him to save your realm. I also killed Tyrion Lannister.”

“He was my friend. I thought he would give Daenerys sound advice.”

“He did. She failed to listen.”

“So much death, it’s hard to keep track of who killed whom. I would bring the cycle of killing to an end.”

“You are here on behalf of John Carter?”

“He knows I am here. I bear one message from him, and another of my own.”

“I do not believe you, so give me your messages and leave before I kill you, too.”

“I am unarmed.”

“A weapon would not save you. What do you wish of me?”

I had finished my wine. I poured another glass. Had I really fallen so far, threatening to kill a soft fat man I had just met merely for his words?

“My first task is simple. You and your sisters killed a huge number of his enemies.”

“Three hundred and seventy-five men and sixty-one women between us.”

“I do not doubt. Many were sellswords, who as you know carry their wealth on their persons. Many Dothraki do as well.”

“Your point?”

“The Unsullied collected their gold and other valuables after the battle. John Carter insists that you have your share of this wealth. It is a great deal of money; I can have it delivered here or John Carter will hold it in your name.”

“You may tell John Carter that I thank him for his honesty. Would that he recalled such in regards to our marriage. I had given this no thought but will accept our share. Please dispatch it to House Manderly of White Harbor. You have a similar payment for Clegane?”

“Yes, that was left with the proprietress.”

Clegane would spend his share on wine within days. As for our share, I had little care for it. I knew John Carter would be far more scrupulous in its care than he had been with our love. The money would be sent as promised.

“He will appreciate every drop of that. You had your own message?”

“I want you to marry John Carter and become his queen.”

I snorted. Between that, threatening a stranger with death and the wine, it was clear that I had spent too much time in the twisted mind of Sandor Clegane.

“That will not happen.”

“Westeros needs unity. John Carter is a military genius who can forge that unity by force of arms. But he is a foreigner with no claim to the throne.”

“Neither have I.”

“But you are a hero. You are Azor Ahai.”

“A fairy tale, like the gods.”

“And yet one that actually occurred.”

“Possibly so.”

“The North worships you.”

“The North knows me as the foreigner who put the last of the Starks to the sword. And Westeros is far more than the North.”

“That it is. There is more to my proposal.”

“You are insane.”

“As you say, possibly so. Might I continue?”

I do not know why I continued to listen; I suppose the thought of John Carter sending this strange man to grovel for my hand pleased me on some level.

“Please do.”

“You have three friends you call sisters.”

“They are the sisters of my heart, and they number eight. Do not trivialize that.”

“I certainly do not. I know that you share a deep bond of love with all of them, and they with one another.”

“Do you?”

“You should read the minds of all around you. You’d be surprised how many are watching. And for whom.”

“Perhaps I will. And they will end like your creature Rolston.”

“He belonged to Qyburn, not me. When I choose to act, it is not so easily detected.”

“Do you mean to threaten my sisters? Did you know Aurane Waters?”

“I did. I know what you did to rescue your sister. I would not chance your wrath.”

“This grows tiresome. Your point?”

“You cannot bear children for John Carter. Tansy Tully is heir to the Riverlands and a politically valuable match, as Walder Frey understood, but she also cannot bear children, as Walder Frey failed to understand. Yet Beth Cassel, though she prefers the company of other women, is likely fertile.

“John Carter has remembered his love for you, and longs to restore it. And you will not be separated from your sisters. But he might take another as queen alongside you. There is a long history of kings marrying multiple wives. We can even include Lyra Mormont; I understand that you might like that.”

“John Carter has a queen.”

“Talisa Maegyr is not of Westeros, and brings no political advantage. She can easily be . . . removed from the picture.”

“I was correct before. You are insane. Leave now before I decide to rise from this comfortable couch.”

He rose.

“Think on what I have offered.”

He glided away. I had seen actors in Helium use the same trick, moving as though they took no steps beneath their gowns.

“Stop. Sit down.”

He resumed his seat. I poured a third glass of wine.

“You will consider my offer?”

“Absolutely not. My sisters and I will not play your game of thrones, and I have ended my marriage with John Carter.”

“He assumed that was the meaning of the water ritual.”

“You spoke of my sister’s fertility.”

“She is still somewhat young; she is beautiful if one sees beyond the damaged nose, and obviously very healthy. She’s but a knight’s daughter; as your sister that can be overlooked, and her mother was highborn. John Carter needs an heir. The realm must have stability.”

Somewhat young? In a land where children were forcibly wed to old men, Beth Cassel was already considered aged having just entered her second decade.

“Your information is less reliable than you believe.”

“Of what do you speak?”

“How old is John Carter?”

“I don’t know. Five-and-thirty, perhaps?”

“Perhaps. You do not know?”

“No. I take it that you do?”

“No, I do not. Neither does he.”

“I fail to see your point.”

“John Carter needs no heir. He is extremely long-lived. Possibly he is immortal.”

“That is interesting.”

“I have known many spymasters.”

“I’m sure you have.”

“On your world and on mine, some things are the same. You know how to keep your word. And you know how to repay a favor.”

He nodded.

“What do you want in exchange for this valuable information you’ve given me?”

“You will see that John Carter allows us to leave this city unmolested.”

“I can do that.” He paused. “He needs you, you know.”

“Then he should not have done this,” I pulled down my dress to display the scar between my breasts.

“No, he should not have.”

“My sister Lyra has a matching scar on the top of her left breast. My sister Beth gave John Carter the wound he bears on his own chest that should have killed him, and the wound on his left arm.”

“He would not speak of his battle with you, nor would his blood riders.”

“My sisters wish him dead. Why should I not allow Beth Cassel to finish what she started?”

“The realm needs you. You have knowledge of many things that John Carter wishes to bring to our people.”

“Knowledge he does not possess.”

“Knowledge he does not possess,” Varys agreed.

“How difficult was it for him to admit this?”

“Considerably. He has even more pride in his Virginia than he does in himself.”

John Carter’s planet Dirt had more advanced technology than that of this world, but it was still primitive compared to Barsoom. And John Carter was a soldier, not a scientist. He could probably teach them to make the explosive powder with which my people and I had slain the black dragon, but I doubted that he had the skills in metallurgy to allow them to manufacture even the most basic firearms. Knowing that something is possible is in itself a great advantage, and Westeros would eventually see steam engines and cannon. But not for a great while.

“Your maester Qyburn will not assist?”

“I had assumed you had killed him.”

“You were misinformed. I damaged his creature but did not lay a blade on him. Perhaps you are less omniscient than you believe.”

“Perhaps so. Qyburn has passed out of my sight.”

“He has more talents than you believe, though fewer than he believes.”

“I shall endeavor to keep that in mind. Your talents are more important at this moment. John Carter has many great plans for Westeros.”

“No doubt he wishes to build a canal somewhere.”

“A canal?”

“A ditch filled with water, through which boats move.”

“I’m aware of the concept.”

“Were you also aware that their construction solves all societal ills?”

That drew a smile; apparently John Carter had discussed the topic with his advisors. More dangerous would be the social ideas my former husband no doubt still viewed as divinely sanctioned by the god in which he professes not to believe. Universal suffrage. Religious freedom. Free speech. And slavery.

“He may play star-god if he wishes. I will not play goddess. I have already shared more than is wise.”

“Yes, I know.”

He rose again.

“A long life to you, princess.”

I smiled.

“If I am fortunate, yes. Farewell, Varys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dejah now has more sisters than she has readers, but there will be a Part Four.


	28. Sequel Notice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris and Thuvia of Ptarth face John Carter.

Just a note that the next volume has now begun. You can click on the "Next Work" link right down below to find the next installment. There is a dragon involved.


End file.
